


The Hollowness Was in His Arms, and the World Was Smiling

by Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game), The Princess Bride - William Goldman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossover, Falling In Love, Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Pirates, Psychological Torture, Revenge, Rodents of Unusual Size - ROUS, Romance, Suicide Attempt, Swordfighting, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat/pseuds/Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat
Summary: Boris Habit was not a very remarkable child, but he grew to be a very remarkable man.Wanted for his beauty, he is forced to marry the Princess Martha. But he yearns for his lost love, Kamal, a stable boy who he spent his adolescence with. When a kidnapping occurs, Boris is sure the princess will come for him. But a mysterious masked man arrives first.Could this man be someone familiar? Or is Boris doomed to an unhappy marriage?***Rebeccameyers12 helped a lot in making this au, please check out her works!
Relationships: Borbra Luddington & Parsley Botch, Jimothan Botch & Parsley Botch, Kamal Bora & Tim Tam, Kamal Bora/Dr. Boris Habit, Lulia Fame/Jerafina Tabouli, Martha (Smile For Me) & Martin (Smile For Me), Nat Vancey & Trencil Varnnia, Parsley Botch/Martin, Randy Hapukurk/Gillis Socco
Comments: 31
Kudos: 46





	1. The Groom

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessed with The Princess Bride lately, but my obsession with Smile For Me hasn't faded at all. So I thought, why not combine the two! And here we are! I hope the characters fit well and that you all enjoy!

_“How are you feeling my dear?” A father asked his daughter. She simply coughed in response, and he frowned. “That well, hmm?”_

_“What do you want Dad?” She asked. She sniffed and tried to sit up in bed. Her father reached out and flicked the T.V. she had on, to off. She groaned. “Are you gonna try and do ‘family bonding’? Now? While I’m sick?”_

_“In a way,” he replied. “I had hoped I could read to you, like I did when you were younger.” The daughter huffed, before beginning to violently cough again. Her father reached out to feel her forehead, and she was too weak to stop him. “Would you like that, my blossom?”_

_“Whatever,” she said. “It’d better be a good book, at least.” Her father smiled and pulled said book out. The hardback cover was old and clearly well loved. “Wow...did you have this when you were a kid?”_

_“Oh yes. And it’s been in our family long before that,” her father replied. “It’s quite good, I promise.”_

_“Yeah?” She asked, skeptical. “What’s it about?”_

_“A prince, a pirate, an evil princess, a man out for revenge, a gentle giant, and true love.” The daughter thought it over for a moment, before settling more comfortably in bed._

_“Well...I bet I’ve read worse,” she said. Her father smiled. “I guess I can listen.”_

_“Thank you dear. Now…”_

Boris Habit was not a particularly remarkable child. 

He spent his childhood on a farm in the middle of Erythron, a quiet country in the middle of Europe. He didn’t like to think on his childhood, so instead he thought of the different farm he spent his adolescence on. He worked there as a planter. He had always had a way with plants, and the two women who owned the farm were forever grateful to him for making their crops grow when it seemed nothing else could.

The women, Jerafina and Lulia, treated him like a son, and they were more of parents than he’d ever had. He slept in their home, and he shared in their food, and he put up with their incessant nagging.

“Boris, dear, why don’t you like to wash?” Lulia would ask over dinner.

“Too much work,” he would reply. “My hair is a horror to get truly clean, and I’ll only dirty it in the fields again tomorrow.”

“Let him be!” Jerafina would say, waving Lulia off. “He has a point, he’ll only get dirty again! He’s a young boy Lu’, he’s supposed to be dirty!” Lulia would smile and shake her head, and the conversation would drop.

When Boris turned fifteen, another boy came to live on the farm. He worked as a stable hand, and was able to calm the horses like no one Boris had ever met. He was soft spoken, and refused the motherly nature of the two women. He slept in the stables, with the horses, and refused to come inside for meals. Instead, Boris would bring him his meals. At first, Boris tried to speak to him.

“What’s your name?” He asked, sitting just outside the stables. He knew the other boy was on the other side of the stable, he could hear him eating quietly. “Mine’s Boris.” He just got a quiet hum in response. “Where did you live before this?” He got no answer, just a licked clean plate slid out from beneath the stable door. Boris huffed as he grabbed the plate. “Fine! See if I care what you say!” He stormed off to the house again, and tried not to let the conversation (or lack thereof) bother him.

It would.

For the next half a year, Boris would try to coax words out of the stable hand. He got nothing more than a hum or a grunt. He asked Lulia and Jerafina if the boy was mute, but they told him that he had talked plenty when they had taken him in. Boris only became more determined, and when that didn’t work, he became upset. He stopped talking to the other boy entirely, and would instead go for walks through the forest when he had free time. Boris felt most comfortable on these walks, surrounded by nature. 

It was on one of these walks that the first seed of love was sown.

He heard horse hooves approaching from behind him, so he quickly got off the trail. He listened as they approached and tried to figure out who it was. It was brisk, but not fast. Certainly no one out for a leisurely ride, but not anyone out to race either. He stood off to the side of the trail, until he saw the horse. It was one from his farm! He considered for a moment, before realizing that it wasn’t going too fast, and jumped out in front of it. “Stop! Thief!” He yelled. The horse came to a quick stop, and even reared back on its hindlegs, but a quiet voice calmed it. “Stable boy!” Boris flushed bright red. “I-I’m so sorry! I thought that...that…”

“Do you ride?” Boris jerked his eyes up to look at the other boy. He was sitting on top of the large horse, his small frame looking odd on it. 

“W-what?”

“Do you ride?” He asked again. Boris wordlessly shook his head. “A shame,” the boy said. He dismounted the horse, and came to stand beside Boris. “You fear them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I...things bigger than me frighten me,” Boris said. The stable boy nodded. He gently took Boris’s hand, and carefully brought it up to the horse’s muzzle. Boris closed his eyes tightly, but the horse simply nuzzled his hand gently. Boris giggled as he pet the horse, and slowly, the stable boy’s hand moved away, so Boris was touching the horse alone. “What’s his name?” Boris asked.

“Her name is Horse,” the stable boy replied. Boris chuckled.

“I like it,” he whispered, turning to look at the other boy. He blushed and looked away, and Boris giggled again. “If you’d teach me...I’d like to learn to ride.” The stable boy turned back to him and smiled. 

“I’d like that,” he said. 

The next two years passed in an odd sort of way. Between their jobs on the farm, Boris and the stable boy would spend their time together. Sometimes they’d walk in the forest, sometimes they’d work on Boris’s riding, sometimes Boris would have his meal in the stable with the other boy. The stable boy slowly opened up. He spoke more, he accepted Boris’s affection more. Soon, the two of them would be found sitting close, or wrapping an arm around each other’s shoulders. 

And yet, Boris still didn’t know his name.

“Stable boy! Would you fetch me the seeds?” He’d ask, and he’d feel guilt at not asking his name.

“As you wish,” the stable boy would reply. That was all he seemed to say when they worked.

“Stable boy! Would you help me with sowing these seeds?”

“As you wish.”

“Stable boy! Quick! Help me protect this grain from the storm!”

“As you wish!”

As they aged, the words made Boris feel odder and odder, and they were delivered differently. They went from a simple phrase, to an odd murmur of affection.

When Boris was nineteen, and the stable boy was twenty, a new topic came into their line of conversation. 

“You know, all the girls in town fancy you.” Boris jumped and turned to his right. The stable boy was standing there, eating an apple and holding another one. He tossed it to Boris, who fumbled with it, but caught it.

“What makes you say that?” Boris asked, before biting into the apple. 

“They all blush and giggle and look away. I’ve seen them. When we go to town together,” the stable boy said. Boris frowned. 

“I hadn’t noticed…” he said. “Why do you think that is?”

“You’re tall, and strong, and very sweet,” the stable boy said. He blushed and looked away, and Boris couldn’t help but notice the similarities to what the stable boy had just said the girls did. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

“I wouldn’t be lucky to have a girl,” Boris said. The stable boy looked at him in confusion. “I’d much rather be like Lulia and Jerafina. Living out the rest of my days with a close friend.”

The stable boy threw his head back in laughter. “What?” Boris asked.

“They aren’t just friends Boris!” He said. “They’re in love.” Boris was quiet for a moment, before nodding. 

“I suppose they are…” he muttered. “Well...perhaps I’d prefer a man then. I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” The stable boy just took another bite of his apple. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

“Once,” the stable boy said. He didn’t elaborate, and Boris didn’t push.

They didn’t talk more about it, but Boris tried to take better notice of love after that. He noticed that the girls in town did, in fact, blush and giggle and look away when he passed. He noticed that they did the same for the stable boy. He tried to find the girl that the stable boy had fallen in love with, but he never seemed to show any interest in any of the girls. He only seemed to want to spend time with Boris.

Until, one day, Boris realized something. 

“Stable boy! Would you like to go for a walk?”

“As you wish.”

The way he murmured the phrase, the adoration behind his words, the gentleness of his gaze…

Boris realized that when the stable boy said “as you wish,” what he meant was “I love you”.

At first, he wasn’t sure what to do. He kept on as normal for a while. He would go for walks with the stable boy, he would go on rides with him, he would work in the fields with him, and he would eat in the stable with him. And Boris, very slowly, realized that the reason he asked for the boy’s company so often was because, he too, was in love. He wasn’t sure what to do.

When Boris turned twenty, it was a particularly hard winter. The stable boy came to the thatch door and came inside for the first time in six years. He was usually warm with the horses and the blankets Boris brought him, but it was just too cold for that. Lulia and Jerafina didn’t have the room to give him his own space, so he’d have to sleep in Boris’s room.

“I’ll take the floor,” he said, as soon as he walked in the room.

“The bed is big. We can share,” Boris said, feeling frozen. The stable boy stared at him for a moment, before licking his lips.

“As you wish,” he whispered, and Boris felt his heart give out. He couldn’t imagine holding more love for one person.

“I love you too,” he said. The stable boy just smiled and took his hand. He carefully brought it up to his lips, and kissed Boris’s knuckles.

“I thought you might,” he whispered, “but it is so hard to be sure.” Boris smiled gently, and brought his free hand up to cup the stable boy’s face. “I...I don’t have money for a wedding.”

“We can’t get married,” Boris said, and the stable boy’s face fell. “I...I don’t even know your name.” The stable boy chuckled, but sobered quickly. 

“A name is valuable my darling. I don’t understand how you can give yours out the way you do.” Boris shook his head.

“Perhaps we hold different levels of vulnerability. But…” He pressed his forehead to the stable boy’s. “Perhaps I can have your name. Instead of a ring. That can be our valuable thing.” The stable boy smiled gently.

“Kamal,” he said, “Kamal Bora. And...Boris Habit, will you be mine?” 

“Yes. For eternity.” 

Their lips met, and Boris remembered something he had read a long time ago. He read that, in the history of humankind, there had been five kisses recorded that were more tender and loving than any other in the world. Boris had found that odd, for he wasn’t sure who would keep a record like that. He figured whoever did had far too much time on their hands.

But, as his fingers laced with Kamal’s, he knew that this kiss set those other five to shame.

They really didn’t have the money for a wedding, and while Lulia and Jerafina couldn’t be happier for the two of them, they didn’t have the money either. For the next year, Boris and Kamal spent their days together. Lulia and Jerafina did their best to give the young couple space, but the two of them were so dedicated to their jobs that they still worked just as easily as they had before. It was only little changes.

Their walks through the woods became peppered with kisses, and hands were clasped the whole time. Their rides became games, where one would chase the other, and when they caught him, he would get to give as many kisses as he liked. Boris would sleep in the stable now, his large body curled around Kamal’s small one. Kamal would even occasionally sleep in Boris’s room, and they would clutch each other tightly through the night. That year was the best year of Boris’s life, and he was absolutely terrified of what came after it.

“I’m leaving for America.” Boris’s heart sank and he reached for Kamal desperately.

“Darling...please...don’t leave me,” he whispered. Kamal held him gently, kissing his cheek.

“I want to marry you Boris. To do that, I need to have money, and in America I can seek my fortune. Or even just enough for your trip and our marriage. I don’t care if we’re poor, as long as we can finally be together.”

“We are together!” Boris wailed. “Marriage is just a signed paper, and a few speeches! We are already together Kamal, please! Don’t leave me!” He held Kamal at arms length, and searched his expression. His mind was made up, Boris could tell. “How...how long do you think you'll be gone?”

“Not more than a year. If...if I cannot get the money I need in a year, I will return to you. And we will live without a marriage.” Kamal winced at just saying it. Boris sniffed quietly as tears began to fall. “Oh love...don’t cry. You know how it pains me.”

“You leaving pains me more,” Boris snapped. He jerked away from Kamal, and rushed to his bedroom. He heard Kamal call after him, but he ignored him. He threw himself on his bed and sobbed for hours. 

The moon was high in the sky when Boris left his room. He snuck past Lulia and Jerafina’s room, and quietly made his way to the stable. He looked through the straw and found no one. For a moment, he was afraid that Kamal had left without a further goodbye. But he refused to accept that. He raced to the woods, running as fast as he could. He almost tripped over roots and stones, but he managed to stay upright. He barreled into a clearing that he and Kamal frequented, and almost ran into Kamal in his haste.

“Boris! Boris, what’s wrong?” Kamal asked, looking behind Boris. “Are you being chased? What happened?”

“I’m sorry!” Boris said, all in a rush. “I understand why you want to leave, I understand! I’m just so worried! What happens if you don’t return to me? What am I supposed to do? I don’t think I could live without you Kamal!” Kamal shushed him, and held his face gently. 

“I will return to you. Or, perhaps, I will send for you and you will come to me. We will not be apart for more than a year Boris, I promise you.”

“But so much could happen! What if I never see you again?” Kamal kissed him, a gentle thing that calmed Boris immensely.

“You will see me again,” Kamal said, firm but gentle, “because what we have is special Boris.” He moved one of Boris’s hands over his heart. “This is true love,” he whispered. “You will see me again, I promise you.” Boris nodded. The two of them spent the night in the stable, kissing and holding each other, trying to memorize how the other felt, so they could remember the other while they were apart.

When morning came, Kamal took his very few belongings, and packed them up. He stood on the edge of the farm, and the other three people who lived there stood with him.

“Thank you,” he said to Lulia and Jerafina, “for all the years of protection and food. I...I should have been more hospitable but-”

“Hush dear,” Lulia said. “You were yourself. That is all we could ever ask of you.” Jerafina nodded, and Kamal smiled. He shook both their hands, before he turned to Boris. 

They embraced, as friends, then kissed, as lovers. They didn’t exchange words, for everything that needed to be said had been said in their actions. Kamal dried Boris’s tears as a few of his own fell. They kissed one last time, before Kamal turned and walked through the forest to the nearest port town. Boris couldn’t work for a week, but Lulia and Jerafina didn’t push.

Every day Boris waited for a message from Kamal. Kamal had promised to send him something the moment he could, the moment he had enough money to send something across the sea. Boris waited, and waited, and waited. As the days, and weeks, and months passed, he slowly began to lose hope. He sat at the edge of the farm, and waited. He’d go into town, asking after notes or letters or anything, and he’d sit in the middle of town and wait. The girls didn’t look at him now. No one did. He had become a crazed man, obsessed with receiving word from his love.

A year passed.

No word.

“He’s abandoned me,” Boris said one night over dinner. His voice was hollow. “He’s forgotten me. Left me for some woman in America.” He felt the need to cry, but the tears simply would not come. Lulia and Jerafina shared a guilty glance, before they stood him up from the table and explained.

The ship Kamal had left on had been attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts. The pirate who took no prisoners. Lulia and Jerafina had heard of Kamal’s fate, but had been hesitant to tell Boris. They didn’t want to be the ones to dash his hopes, but they didn’t want him to find out in town either. They had thought they were protecting him, but they only prolonged the hurt.

If Boris had been a crazed man before, he became unhinged. He screamed, he clawed at his own skin, he wrecked everything in his path. He insulted the women, he threw things at them, he destroyed their home. He ripped up all the plants on the farm, he frightened the horses away from their stable, he almost burned down the stable. Jerafina grabbed him before he could and held him tightly to her chest. His rage faded instantly, and he sobbed as though he were a mere babe.

“I shall never love again,” he wailed, his arms wrapped tightly around Jerafina. Lulia came behind him to try and pet his hair. It was still much too dirty to be played with. 

“Oh darling...I’m so sorry,” she whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder instead.

The three of them stayed in the field well into the night, sobbing and mourning. When morning finally came, Lulia suggested they do something for Kamal. They would go to the nearest graveyard, and build a small monument to him. They couldn’t afford to have one made, but they could take parts of nature and build something Kamal would have liked. Boris took a small bit of Horse’s mane, and cut it, to put in the monument. But, before they went, he thought of something.

“Mothers,” he said (because after the night before, could they be anything but?), “will you help me wash up? I want to look nice when sending him off.” 

“Of course dear,” Lulia said.

Boris could clean himself just fine, he wasn’t a child. He was twenty-two, and that knowledge frightened him. He didn’t know when he had grown up, but he had. The point was, Boris was capable of washing. It was his hair that was the problem. The thick curls were almost impossible to get truly clean, and then they took an eternity to dry. Lulia and Jerafina both helped him scrub his hair clean though, and when it was clean and dried, they both stood back in awe.

Boris had always looked like he’d greyed early because of all the dust and dirt in his hair. It had mattered awfully in some places, and there were sections that had been ripped out when they had combed it, completely impossible to save. And while it was wet it had weighed in his face so much he couldn’t see. But dry, and clean...Boris looked like an angel. His auburn locks curled delicately over his shoulders and down his back. The light was catching it just so, and it shone like water hit by afternoon sun. The color was that of autumn and-

_“Dad, what does that even mean?” The daughter asked. Her father frowned._

_“It’s rude to interrupt my blossom,” he said. His daughter rolled her eyes._

_“Okay, I’m sorry. But, really! What’s the color of autumn? What does that mean?”_

_“I always assumed it meant like the leaves in autumn,” the father said. His daughter nodded absentmindedly. “Would you like me to keep going?”_

_“Yeah, but only cuz I’m holding out for the pirate you promised.” Her father chuckled._

_“Soon my bloom, soon.”_

The light was catching it just so, and it shone like water hit by the afternoon sun. The color was that of autumn, and when Lulia reached out to tuck some of it behind Boris’s ear, the texture was that of silk.

“Dear...you’re beautiful,” Lulia whispered. Jerafina could only nod in agreement. Boris blushed.

“I...I would hope so. I would like to be, for...for him,” he said. Jerafina came forward and squeezed his hand tightly as a few more tears were shed.

“Come on, we’ve got a funeral to have,” Jerafina said.

The three of them wandered through town, and Boris noticed that eyes turned to him again. It made him feel sick. Only Kamal was...had been allowed to look at him like that. Not these girls. And it was rude to gawk! He didn’t care if he had gotten cleaned up! He had done it out of grief! 

The small family soon arrived at the graveyard outside of town. Boris still had Horse’s hair firmly in his grip, and he laid the hair out in a small circle, far away from the other tombs. Jerafina and Lulia went into the woods to try and gather rocks and sticks, while Boris scoured the area for wild flowers. Kamal had always loved wild flowers, he said man grown ones looked too wrong. Boris found a small patch of lilies and began to weep all over again.

Kamal had brought him a bouquet of lilies one day, a few days before he announced he would leave. Boris had pressed one, and he kept it tucked in an old book, one of Boris’s most prized possessions. 

Boris didn’t know how long he wept in front of those lilies, but Lulia came to him and picked some. She carefully guided him over to where she and Jerafina had built a small monument. Not a tombstone, per se, but something Kamal would have liked. Simple and sweet. Boris carefully lay the lilies around it. He knelt before the grave, and pressed his forehead to the dirt. Lulia and Jerafian did the same. Boris didn’t know about the women, but he did not pray. Any hope he had for a god was gone. No god would take his Kamal from him, not after everything they had both been through. 

When the sun was high in the sky, and all three of them had neglected their own mortal need too long, they returned to the farm. People stared at Boris. He couldn’t help it, he wept more. Lulia had to guide him back home, he couldn’t see through his tears. 

Little did Boris know, that one of the men in that crowd would change his life forever.


	2. The Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only note on this chapter is that Humperdinck always seemed so two dimensional, and I wanted Martha to be more than that. So I made her more! I hope she's still pretty evil.

Martha had never been a traditional princess.

From the moment she was born, everyone could tell that she was going to be different. She was a strong and healthy baby (a bit rare for the day), and smart as a whip. She could speak in full sentences by the time she was one and a half. She knew all the countries in Europe by the time she was two. She knew which were their enemies and which were their allies by the time she was three. She was, by all accounts, a perfect princess.

But not traditional.

She cared not for learning, it bored her. She needed only to hear something once, and she knew it by heart. Learning of the mind was not what she enjoyed, so she escaped it as often as she liked. Learning of the body was what captivated her. She would sneak off to the training grounds of the army and knights, and watch for hours. She began to ask about how to grow stronger, and when the princess asked something of you, you told her.

Much like countries and mathematics and spelling, she took to fighting and hunting like a fish to water. But this actually excited her. She learned her way around a sword, and could soon beat the finest knight in the kingdom. She learned her way around a crossbow, and could soon shoot a squirrel in the eye from twenty feet away. She learned the way of any weapon she could get her hands on.

And frankly? That was a good thing!

Erythron was not made for war, but it was always on the cusp of it. They were a small country, but they were in the middle of many warring countries. To protect themself, they were forced into war. Martha was excited for her first war as queen, she wanted a way to show off her skills. Unfortunately for her (but fortunately for the entire country), there hadn’t been a war in several years. 

So she had to find other ways to use her skills. Luckily, there was a man in the court who was able to help her with that.

Martin was a nobleman, but not one who had been born as such. He had climbed up the social ladder as fast as he could since he was a child. He left everything behind in the pursuit of power. So, obviously, his next step was to befriend the highest power. The king was elderly, and befriending him would do Martin no good if he died. So, he befriended Martha. At first, for power, but the two of them truly did get along. They were both ruthless when hunting, and it was both of their favorite pastime.

At first, they traveled. Martha’s parents thought it was excellent, their daughter could learn more of the world as she did. But that soon became a problem when they realized they had no heir to the throne that way. So they called her back. This distressed her, but Martin had an idea.

A horrible, cruel idea, that made Martha grin.

“We will bring animals of all kinds, here to the kingdom. Great beasts and small creatures, venomous and docile, dangerous and calm, every beast we can find,” Martin said. “We will keep them in a special place, and we will go out whenever we’re free and hunt. How does that sound, my liege?” 

“Martin, you have an excellent head on those shoulders,” she replied, and Martin grinned.

And so, the Pit of Despair was born.

The Pit of Despair was underground and had five floors. The first for fast creatures, the second for strong creatures, the third for venomous, the forth for the most dangerous and the fifth...was empty. Martin and Martha had yet to find a beast they could not best, but they were optimistic. The fifth floor was there for something they hoped would be a worthy match for them. If only they could find it…

Unfortunately, there were more pressing issues. 

“Your majesty!” Martha took her attention away from Martin, and he managed to “stab” her through the heart with his fake fencing sword. She turned and slapped him, hard. He just laughed, and she grinned at him. “Your majesty, please!” Martha turned back to the messenger and gestured for him to speak. “Your father, he is dying…”

“Oh,” Martha said. Martin put a hand on her shoulder, trying to be comforting. She just shrugged it off, and pushed down her tears. There were more pressing things than her sadness. “Well...I suppose we should meet and decide upon what to do.”

And so they did.

Martha, her father and mother, and Martin all gathered into one room and poured over options. It was obvious that Martha would make an excellent ruler, but it was against the ways of the world. A queen could not be in charge. 

_“Yuck.”_

_“I quite agree, but that is how the story goes, I’m afraid.”_

Martha would need to marry, but she wasn’t going to settle for that easily.

“I’m not going to let some oaf take over the kingdom that I could rule so easily!” She roared. She still had her sword by her side, and she’d been known to wave it wildly when upset, so everyone was trying to keep her calm. 

“You won’t need to, my dear,” her mother assured her. “We’ll think of something!”

“Perhaps…” Martin said, “perhaps you could marry someone who was easy to manipulate?” Martha’s parents gave him an odd look. Martha frowned.

“As much as I’d like that, I highly doubt there is royalty in the world who would fall for that,” she said. There was a moment of silence, before Martin spoke again.

“Martha… what do you look for in a partner?” He asked. Martha thought it over for a moment.

“Well… he must be beautiful. And he must be willing to let me do as I please with the kingdom… I suppose that’s really it. I’ve never been one for romance, so perhaps my list is a little bare.”

“Would you mind too much if he was a commoner?” Martin asked. Martha gave him a small smile.

“What plan have you, my good friend?”

The next day, a small party of Martha and her most trusted confidants rode into a small village. The people gasped and parted and bowed. Martha smiled at them all. She was quite loved by her people for, despite being non traditional, she knew when to turn on charm. She followed Martin through the town and out a little ways. Martin had said they were heading for the Fame-Tabouli farm, and had promised Martha a beautiful man when they arrived.

On the farm itself, Boris was trying his best to salvage the plants he had uprooted. They had managed to get all the horses back, but it had been slow without their favorite stable boy. Boris wasn’t allowing himself to think of his name, he was just the stable boy again. The stable boy who was quiet, and wouldn’t talk to Boris. The horses were taken care of, but… not the crops. 

Boris had destroyed almost everything they had. He still didn’t know why Lulia and Jerafina hadn’t tried to stop him sooner, but they hadn’t, and now they were all paying the price. With no crops, they were going to be doomed when winter came. They didn’t even have anything to sell for money to buy food. They were doomed, and it was all his fault. He was about to start crying, when the sound of several horses thundered near the entrance to the farm. He turned to it, and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the princess. He would have bowed, but he felt frozen.

“Is that him?” Martha asked Martin. Martin nodded.

“The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Martin had been traveling, looking for more creatures to add to the Pit of Despair, when he saw this beautiful man being guided through the crowd by a woman much older than him. He had been sobbing, but the tears on his face only added to his beauty.

Or perhaps Martin was just a sadist.

Martha dismounted her horse and began to walk towards Boris. He was still frozen with fear, but she didn’t know that. She thought he was being defiant, and that intrigued her.

“You! Is this the Fame-Tabouli farm?” She asked, even though she already knew. Boris just nodded. “And you...what is your name?” Boris stammered for a moment. “What is your name boy?”

“Boris!” He finally got out. “Boris Habit! I...oh, I’m so sorry your majesty, I did not mean…!” He suddenly fell to his knees in a bow, but Martha knelt to put a hand on his shoulder and lift him again.

“Where are the people who own this farm?” She asked. 

“M-my mothers are...are in town,” he said. Martha raised an eyebrow.

“Mothers?” She asked. Boris swallowed.

“They are like mothers to me, yes,” he said. Martha nodded absentmindedly.

“Well, I will have to speak to them then,” she said.

“Your majesty, what are you doing here?” He asked. “I-I don’t mean to be rude! You may go wherever you like! But...what could you possibly want with people like us?”

“I am looking for a husband.” Boris felt his blood turn to ice.

Princess Martha was beautiful. Or...so he’d been told. He couldn’t tell. He had never been able to tell if a woman was beautiful. Not from first glance at least. He knew that his mothers were beautiful. They were kind and sweet and understanding, so of course they were beautiful. He didn’t know the girls in town well enough to know if they were beautiful or not. And he’d never met another girl in his life, besides his mother (who was most certainly not beautiful). But he’d been told that Martha was beautiful.

So why did he feel nothing when he gazed at her?

“I hope your search goes well, then,” he replied, because he didn’t want to admit that he knew she meant him. 

Martha grinned. An answer like that might have disheartened others, but it made her glad. If he was really that dense, she could easily rule the kingdom through him. She just had to get him to say whatever she wanted him to say, and she would have her way with everything. 

Who cares if she didn’t feel anything when she gazed at him?

Perhaps that could work in her favor…

“Boris…” she took his hand gently, and he looked at her with wide eyes. “I think I should like to marry you.”

“Oh…” Boris muttered. “I… I’m not sure what to say.”

“When a princess proposes, you say yes!” One of the men in Martha’s party yelled. Boris turned bright red, and Martha turned to him. 

“Nonsense! He has a choice! I would not be so cruel!”

She would.

In fact, she was. She knew that if Boris were to refuse, then he and his mothers would be ostracized from society, and they would never be able to pick themselves up again.

Boris knew that too. But, he knew another thing too. He knew that if he denied Martha, he and his mothers would die. They had no food, almost no money, and very few friends in town. They would starve to death through the winter. But, if he accepted…

“Boris!” He jumped and looked towards the entrance of the farm. Lulia and Jerafina were rushing towards him. They dropped to their knees before Martha, but she just smiled at them.

“Rise! There is no need to kneel before your future daughter in law!” She said. Jerafina and Lulia looked to Boris in horror.

“I have not given you an answer yet,” he reminded her. Martha smiled, but it was strained.

“Of course, my apologies.”

“Boris, you…” Jerafina still looked horrified, even as she stood and helped Lulia up. “You cannot…”

“What about true love?” Lulia asked.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get there!” Martha said cheerily. She had no idea that Jerafina and Lulia were speaking of someone else entirely. 

“I am an adult,” Boris said, fighting back tears. “I can make my own decisions.” He didn’t want to. “Martha…” They’d die without her. “I accept your proposal.”

“Excellent! Then we shall-”

“But I must tell you something first.” Martha smiled gently at him.

“Anything,” she said.

“I will not ever love you.”

The whole farm froze. Even the horses seemed to stop what they were doing. Not a word was spoken for a very long time. 

“Well… I don’t think that’s needed,” Martha finally said, shattering the silence. “We only need married so that I can produce an heir and you can rule the kingdom.”

“I have no idea how to run a kingdom!” Boris yelped.

“My father will take you under his wing!” Martha said. “He shall teach you! And then we can rule together!” Boris nodded.

“Will my mothers come with us?” He asked.

“Of course!” Martha said. “They shall be treated like queens in their own right!” Jerafina and Lulia shared an anxious look, and Boris suddenly felt guilty. He knew how much the two of them liked the simple life they had. He had wanted them to come so they wouldn’t starve, but he probably could have sent them food without them having to leave their farms.

But it was too late now, as Martha was already mounting her horse. “Come along then! We’ve got a long ride ahead of us!”

Boris went to the stable, and reached for Horse. He pet her nuzzle gently. She was getting on in years, but she was still as strong as ever. She would carry him to the castle. To his new home… he shoved down tears.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he could learn to love Martha. Perhaps he could be happy with her. He tried to convince himself of that.

But he knew, deep down, he could never love a woman.

He knew he could never love again.


	3. The Kidnapping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is here! It took forever, but that's cuz it's so long, so I hope that makes up for it! Huge shout out to irlenolacroix for helping me with fixing my atrocious grammar osainfso. Hopefully with his help my stuff will be easier to read now! I hope y'all enjoy!

Three years passed, and in that time Boris was miserable. The king, although sweet, was rather senile. Boris didn't learn a thing about running a kingdom. Martha assured him that this was alright, that she’d help him all he needed. He tried to trust her but...it was hard to. Martha was odd, and not in a whimsical way.

Boris had never seen the Pit of Despair. In fact, he had no idea it existed. But he knew that Martha went out hunting at least twice a week, and it made him sick. He hated to think of innocent animals dying. If it was for food, that would be one thing, but for sport? It disgusted him. Additionally, Martha seemed fully intent on making him fall in love with her. She never did anything he didn’t like (not physically) but she would say things that made him wildly uncomfortable. She would call him pet names, or talk about their wedding, or about bringing an heir to the throne. 

Boris tried to love her. It just didn’t work.

He had one small comfort in the world, and that was the pressed lily that he kept in his most beloved book. He would pull the book out every night, and held the lily as gently as he could. It was beautiful, just as it had been the day the stable boy gave it to him. For three years, he would take out the book and look at the lily. 

For three years, he cried himself to sleep.

On the day of their official engagement, Martha addressed her people.

“People of my country, of my kingdom! I have exciting news! On our country's five hundredth anniversary, I shall marry a man who has no equal! He was once a commoner like yourselves, but perhaps you won’t find him so common anymore!” She stepped aside, and Boris stepped onto the balcony. “Prince Boris!” 

The crowd bowed, and Boris felt a pit in his stomach. He wanted to ask them all to rise, to tell them that he was no prince, just a young man who had been afraid of his family dying. He wanted to tell them that he didn’t enjoy being with Martha. He wanted to tell them that he only longed for his true love. 

But he just smiled kindly at them all.

After his appearance before the people, he decided to go for a ride. Riding through the forests behind the castle ground always cleared his head. Horse was still as strong as ever, and would carry him wherever he decided to ride. It was only on these rides that he allowed himself to think of the stable boy. How they used to ride together, how they used to walk through a forest not unlike this one, how Horse had really been his and that Boris was just borrowing her. The tears in his eyes blurred his vision, so he nearly rode past the three people beside the path. He managed to stop in time, and looked them over.

There was a short one, who had a sword at his side, which made Boris nervous. But he smiled so sweetly, that Boris was at ease. There was a giant woman, and her size made Boris nervous. But her eyes held such kindness that Boris was at ease. The man who did not smile, however, only made Boris afraid.

“Excuse me sir,” the man who did not smile said, in a thick Russian accent, “we are but poor lost circus performers. Is there a town nearby?”

“There is nothing nearby, no villages for miles,” Boris said. The man finally smiled.

Boris screamed in fear. “No! Stay away from me!” He spurred Horse away from the three of them, but the short man grabbed a hold of her riens, and the giant woman grabbed Boris’s neck in a way that hit a certain spot, and he was out cold. 

He awoke some time later, on a small boat. He watched as The Man Who Did Not Smile (for he was not smiling anymore), ripped a piece of cloth. 

“What are you doing?” The giant woman asked.

“Putting a Quiktrian guard’s emblem on his horse,” The Man Who Did Not Smile said. He managed to get the emblem placed firmly on Horse’s body, before slapping her croup and she ran off. “When the princess sees that her beloved’s horse with that emblem, she will assume that the Quiktrians have kidnapped him. And when he’s found dead on the Quiktrian border, they’ll have no choice but to go to war!”

“You didn’t say anything about killing anyone!” The giant woman said, sounding distraught.

“I hired you to help me start a war! Did you think it was going to be tea parties and niceties?” The Man Who Did Not Smile yelled. The giant woman frowned and turned away from him to hoist the sail. 

“I agree with Borbra,” the Spaniard with the sword said. “It doesn’t feel right to kill an innocent man. He isn’t even a corrupt royal, just a farm boy turned monarch.” 

“Trust me Parsley, that man is not innocent,” The Man Who Did Not Smile said. 

The Spaniard, Parsely, sighed.“Well...if you insist. But I cannot do the killing.”

“And I don’t kill,” Borbra said.

“I’ll do it, I thought that was established from the beginning,” The Man Who Did Not Smile said. Boris sobbed loudly, and hid his face in his hands. The Man Who Did Not Smile turned to him. “Silence yourself boy. Crying will only make it worse. I thought you would have learned that by now.” Borbra and Parsley shared a confused look. 

“Don’t be so mean,” Borbra said, crossing her arms. The Man Who Did Not Smile turned to her, and she seemed to shrink in on herself (although she was still quite large).

“Do you want me to leave you alone again?” The Man Who Did Not Smile yelled. “Take you back to where you came from? Unemployed? IN GREENLAND?” He quickly rounded on Parsley. “And you! Don’t forget that when I found you, you were so slobbering drunk that you couldn’t buy whiskey!” Parsley just held his hands up in a sort of mock surrender. “Let’s just get going! We’ve got a ways to go, and we need to stay ahead of the Erythronian navy,” The Man Who Did Not Smile yelled.

Boris watched as Borbra and Parsley set about setting the boat into sailing. Borbra seemed to be very inward and small at the moment, in personality, not appearance. Parsley came to stand beside her, and said to her, quietly.

“The old man...he can...fuss,” Parsley said, sounding unsure. Borbra was quiet for a moment, before she smiled slightly.

“It means he likes to scream...at us,” she said. 

Parsley smiled.“Probably he means no harm,” he said.

“He’s very very short on charm!” Borbra said.

“Stop that!” The Man Who Did Not Smile yelled from the front of the ship. “Just get this thing in full tilt!” 

“For that I don’t know this ship is built!” Borbra said, seeming to get her confidence back. The Man Who Did Not Smile scowled at her.

“No more rhyming now, I mean it!”

“Anybody want a peanut?” Boris chuckled, and Borbra turned to smile at him. He shouldn’t have found it as reassuring as he did. The Man Who Did Not Smile shouted in agitation, and all three of the boat’s other passengers giggled.

They sailed at a steady pace until dark, and Boris was slowly beginning to become more afraid. The Man Who Did Not Smile didn’t stop staring at him, no matter what. Parsley was staring off the edge of the back of the boat, and Borbra was focusing on steering the ship. After a short while, Parsley spoke.

“You’re sure that no one could have followed us?” He asked. The Man Who Did Not Smile turned to look at him, and Boris was grateful that his eyes were off of him.

“It would be absolutely inconceivable,” he said. “No one in Quiktran knows what we’ve done, and nobody in Erythron could have caught up in time! We’re perfectly safe!” There was a small moment of silence. “Out of curiosity, why do you ask?” 

“Because there is someone behind us, and he’s gaining,” Parsley said.

“What? Inconceivable!” The Man Who Did Not Smile jumped up and ran to the back of the boat.

Sure enough, there was a small ship following behind them. It didn’t look like anything from any navy, but it was still gaining on them. “Probably just a fisherman on a leisure cruise...at night...through eel infested waters!” Parsley rolled his eyes.

But none of the kidnappers got to look for much longer before there was a splash, and Boris was gone.

“He jumped in!” The Man Who Did Not Smile yelled. “After him!”

“I can’t swim,” Parsley said.

“I only dog paddle,” Borbra added. 

The Man Who Did Not Smile yelled in agitation.“Veer left!” He shouted. Parsley went to the wheel, and turned the ship to the left.

Boris did his best to swim quietly, but he’d never been the best swimmer. Still, he stayed as quiet as possible, hoping that the darkness of night would conceal him. He felt something brush against his ankle, and tried not to panic about it. He heard a far off schriek, and thought it must be the man in the boat behind them. Except...it didn’t sound human.

“Hear that, boy?” The Man You Did Not Smile called to him. “Those are the Shrieking Eels! Listen carefully, for they’re always loudest when they’re about to feast on human flesh!” 

Boris gasped, and his lungs filled with water. He came above water and coughed violently. He heard the shrieking getting closer, and felt something brush against his leg. Suddenly, one of the eels became visible. It charged at him, and-

_“Don’t worry my dear, he is not harmed.” The daughter relaxed her death grip on her blankets, only to huff a moment later._

_“I wasn’t worried! It’s...it’s just a book!” She said. Her father gave her an amused look. “Okay, well...maybe I was concerned. But that’s not the same thing!”_

_He shook his head with a small smile. “Well... shall I continue?”_

_“Yes please…”_

Suddenly, one of the eels became visible. It charged at him, and Boris screamed. He shut his eyes tightly, but no pain came. Instead there was a loud “thwack” noise, and he was being pulled out of the water by a strong hand. He coughed violently, and shivered at the cold water that still enveloped him.

“Put him down!” The Man Who Did Not Smile ordered. 

Borbra frowned.“He’s freezing!” She said. She held Boris close for a moment, and he clung to her, frightened by too much to worry about clinging to someone who was trying to murder him. “Can’t I just keep watch of him? Do you have to tie him up?”

“Put. Him. Down.” 

Borbra sighed.“Sorry, your highness,” she whispered, before setting Boris down. The Man Who Did Not Smile began to tie his wrists and ankles.

“That was stupid. You’ve always been a stupid boy,” he hissed to Boris. 

“I always thought I was rather brave,” Boris replied. He hesitated for a moment, before spitting in The Man Who Did Not Smile’s face. He roared and hit Boris over the head, so he was out cold. 

Again.

When Boris came to, the sun was beginning to come up. Borbra was sitting next to him, and she gave him a gentle smile when she saw he was awake. Boris just looked away from her. 

“I am very sorry we have to do this,” she said to him. “If I had my way, I would not do this at all.” Boris said nothing, and Borbra continued. “There is not much work for a giant. And sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. I would never kill you though.” Boris was still silent. “I’m sorry.” Borbra had tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know, the sky last night was starry.” 

They both jumped and turned to face Parsley. He was giving Borbra a patient smile, and when he looked to Boris his eyes held sympathy.

“It was a peaceful sky,” Borbra said.

“I wonder why,” Parsley replied.

“Probably the weather.”

“Quite nice, altogether,” Boris whispered. Borbra and Parsley both smiled at him, whereas The Man Who Did Not Smile scowled at him.

“Great, you’ve got him in on it.”

“Oh shut up, you nitwit,” Parsley said. Boris smiled. Parsley looked behind the boat. “He’s right on top of us!”

“If he catches us, it’ll be monstrous,” Borbra said, although she stood again. 

“No need to worry. Look!” The Man Who Did Not Smile pointed to the distance. “The Cliffs of Insanity!” Boris looked to where he was pointing, and swallowed thickly. 

The Cliffs of Insanity were towering, black, rocky cliffs. They reached all the way to the heavens, and looked absolutely desolate. Not a bird’s nest on them, they were far too steep. Boris thought about falling from a height like that, and he threw up over the side of the boat. Parsley hurriedly rushed to him.

“Poor thing...” he whispered. “It really is a shame you have to die. You seem such a nice fellow.” He pulled Boris’s hair back as he threw up again. “It will be alright. It will all be over soon.”

“Stop that! Get us docked!” The Man Who Did Not Smile barked at Parsley. He pat Boris’s back, before going to the wheel. “You! Pick him up! Get ready to go up!” 

Borbra nodded, and picked Boris up again. “If you get the chance, run,” she whispered to him. 

“I intend to,” he replied. He almost thanked her for being so kind, but decided that a kind murderer was still a murderer. Parsley managed to get the ship docked in a small secluded area, and Boris noticed a rope that seemed to reach all the way up to the top of the cliffs. He held onto Borbra tightly as she stepped off the ship.

“We’re perfectly safe!” The Man Who Did Not Smile said, although he sounded rather nervous. “Only Borbra can go up our way, and he’ll have to sail around for hours trying to find a harbor.” 

Borbra put on a harness, and Parsley got to work. Using straps that hung off the harness, he secured Boris, then The Man Who Did Not Smile, and then himself. Boris wrapped his arms tightly around Borbra’s waist when he realized that she was going to climb up the rope. Parsley had his arms around her shoulders, and The Man Who Did Not Smile had his around her neck. “Go!” The Man Who-

_“Dad?” The father looked up from the book at his daughter. “I know it’s rude to interrupt but...does that man really not have a name?” His daughter asked._

_The father sighed.“I have been reading it the way it is written...perhaps I should just call him ‘The Man’ from here on in, yes?”_

_His daughter nodded.“I think that’ll be easier.”_

_“Of course. Now...where was I?”_

“Go!” The Man said, and Borbra began to climb up the rope. Boris shut his eyes tightly and tried not to scream as he felt her jerky movements. He reasoned with himself that it was because she was looking for foot holds, and not because she was going to drop them. They’d been climbing for a while, when Parsley suddenly spoke.

“Look! He’s climbing the rope!” Parsley yelled. Boris didn’t dare look down but, sure enough, the man from the boat was climbing the rope. He was dressed all in black and wore a hood and mask. 

“Inconceivable!” The Man said. “Faster Borbra! We can’t let him catch up!” Borbra grunted and attempted to speed up.

“He’s gaining on us!” Parsley called. Boris silently hoped that it was someone who had come to save him. He had the courage to look down for a moment, but the mask the man wore did not put him at ease. 

“Hurry up you buffoon!” The Man yelled. “You were supposed to be this great giant! But a sole man is catching up to you!”

“Well…” Borbra said, still grunting from the strain. “I’m carrying three people. He just has himself!”

“Excuses, excuses! Do you want me to find a new giant?”

“Don’t say that…” Borbra’s voice was small, and Boris gave her a gentle squeeze. 

They climbed on for a while, and every time that Boris gathered the courage to glance down, The Man In Black was closer. He was afraid of the people who had kidnapped him, but he had no choice but to cling to them. Without them, he would die. Eventually they reached the top, and Parsley was the first one over the edge. He lifted Boris up, for he was surprisingly strong for his size. Next he lifted The Man, who ran to where the rope was tied to a rock. He began to slice through the rope.

“What are you doing?!?” Parsley yelled as he struggled to pull Borbra up. “She’s still on the rope!”

“Hurry up then!” The Man yelled. Borbra began to scrabble for holds against the rock. She pulled herself up the cliff side right before the rope snapped. She lay on the ground, just panting for a minute, and Parsley knelt beside her to hold her hand. The Man rushed to the cliffside. “He didn’t fall? Inconceivable!” 

Sure enough, The Man In Black was clinging to the side of the cliffs. He glanced up at the small group, before beginning to climb.

“What were you doing?” Borbra asked, practically yelling (a tremendous sound coming from her). “You could have killed me!” 

“Oh shut up! You were fine!” The Man yelled back.

“You are an awful man…” Parsley muttered. “As soon as this job is over, I am leaving.” Borbra seemed to be afraid to hear that. The Man just shrugged it off.

“Obviously, he’s seen us with the prince, which means he needs to die. You,” The Man pointed at Parsley, “make sure he dies. If he falls, fine. If not, the sword.”

“I want to duel him left handed,” Parsley said. 

The Man scoffed.“You know what a hurry we’re in!” He yelled. 

“Well sure. But if I fight him with my right hand, it’ll be over too quickly,” Parsley said. The Man sighed. 

“Just make sure he dies!” The Man rounded on Borbra. “You! Carry him!” 

Borbra grabbed Boris’s hands, but didn’t follow The Man until she had grabbed Parsley’s shoulder. “You be careful. Men in masks can be dangerous,” she said. 

“Indeed, they can be treacherous,” Parsley replied, smiling slightly. “Listen Borbra, when this is over, you should come find me and-”

“I’m waiting!” The Man yelled. Borbra and Parsley both glanced at him and sighed. 

“Stay safe my friend,” Parsley said. 

Borbra nodded. “The same to you,” she replied, before picking Boris up bridal style and running off with The Man.

Parsley looked down at The Man In Black, and grinned when he saw he had a sword at his side. Parsley began to snap his fingers to awaken his hands. He examined the terrain, which was rocky and uneven. He thought about which tactics would be best for him to use in this fight. Given that The Man In Black could fence. Really fence. Parsley closed his eyes and took a deep breath and hoped beyond hope that this man was a master. In the moments that followed, while he was waiting, he pulled out his one true love, the six fingered sword…

PARSLEY

The Botch Family was well known throughout most of Spain. They did not hold a lot of power, were not a noble family per se, but they were popular amongst the people they lived with. What they were most known for was their kindness.

The head of house, Jimothan, was rough around the edges, but he was exceptionally kind deep down. He would always have an ear to lend if you had a problem, or a shoulder to cry on, or a place for a poor family to stay. They say this is because he lost his wife during childbirth. His son made it, and while some parents may have resented their child, Jimothan cherished his son more than anything in the world.

Jimothan and Parsley did not often see eye to eye, but they loved each other with their whole hearts. Jimothan would egg Parsley on, encourage him to take up activities that did not hold his interest. Sports mostly. Swimming, hunting, archery, hurling, riding. But most of all, fencing. 

The Botch Family had been known for their fencing for generations. The past few generations, unfortunately, were not able to continue the tradition. Jimothan’s father had always been sickly, and Jimothan himself...well, he just didn’t take to it. No matter how hard he practiced, the art of fencing had simply slipped through his fingers. But he had faith in his son.

But Parsley just didn’t hold an interest in physicality.

Parsley was a man of thought, a man of his own mind. He was not particularly gifted, but he worked as hard as he could to learn everything he could. Law and money in particular intrigued him. He had no interest in upholding the law, and he didn’t have greedy reasons for loving money, he simply liked to study them. The quick mathematics necessary for money made his mind race in the most pleasant way, and the law had so many interesting loopholes and contradictions that Parsley felt he could study it forever and never have a full grasp of it. Studies of the mind were what made Parsley most excited, so he had no interest in learning anything of the body.

For the first fifteen years of Parsley’s life, he and his father lived comfortably. They would fight from time to time, but they were overall very happy. On Parsley’s sixteenth birthday, though, things became very bad.

While riding through town, Parsley came upon a young man. A merchant, selling wares. The jewelry he had was beautiful, but not as beautiful as himself. Parsley fell in love immediately, and the man seemed to feel the same. The two of them spent the whole day talking, so long that Parsley missed his birthday dinner with his father. He knew Jimothan would be upset, so he asked the merchant to come home with him, to show his father that he had been gone for a very good reason. 

Jimothan could not be happier.

“Parsley! You have found someone that makes you happy!” Jimothan said, rushing forward to hug his son. Parsley laughed and squeezed his father in return. 

“Yes! I have!” He said excitedly. “Father, this is Martin!” 

Martin and Parsley spent the next year together, and Parsley was convinced it was true love. Martin seemed to think the same. The two of them would spend their days together, and at night, Parsley would do something very secret.

The Botch Family had a very specific way of proposing. They would make a sword that was perfect for their beloved, and present it to them with an offer to marry. Parsley had his work ahead of him, because Martin had six fingers on his right hand. He would have to make a blade that would have perfect balance, and still be both easy to use and attractive. Jimothan stayed up countless nights with him, giving him advice.

“Not that metal, the lighter stuff.”

“No, no, the balance should lean more towards the handle.”

“Sharper, boy, do you want him to die in his first duel?”

After a year, Parsley finally finished. He held the sword in the candle light of his room, and it almost glowed. Jimothan stood back and watched as his son experimentally waved it around.

“You clearly have no training,” he said with a chuckle. Parsley shook his head in an amused way, and set the sword down. “Parsley, I could not be prouder of you. You are a fine young man, and you are going to be an amazing husband to that young man. You have made a sword that rivals the one I presented to your mother. She would be proud of you too, so so proud.” Parsley beamed at his father, and went to hug him tightly. “I love you son.”

“I love you too Father,” Parsley said, burying his face in his father’s chest. “Do you really think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll love it.”

Martin suggested the two of them take a walk not a week later, and Parsley carefully secured the sword to his waist. Martin asked about it, but Parsley told him it was a surprise for him. Martin had smiled and tucked some of Parsley’s unruly hair behind his ear. 

“You are a silly man Parsley,” he said, his voice holding great affection. “I am so glad to have met you.” Parsley blushed, and took Martin’s hand to lead him into the woods.

He had decided on the scenic route through the woods he used to play in to propose to Martin. They walked along the path, Parsley pointing out places of interest as they went. There was the large fallen tree that seemed to refuse to rot. The large canion with sharp rocks at the bottom. The rock formation that held many caves. Martin requested they stop there, to explore a cave perhaps. Parsley nodded. As Martin examined a cave, Parsley stood aside and took deep breaths. He pulled out the sword and turned to Martin. 

“Martin, my dearest love, I have a burning question to ask you,” he began. Martin raised an eyebrow at him, and a small smile crossed his face. “I love you more with every breath I take. I love you as though I have known you my whole life, as though you were dear to me from the beginning. Had we met any sooner, I would have spent all my time with you. I would like to do just that in the future. You make me happier than any man in the world. I adore you, I worship the ground you walk upon. Will you be my husband?” 

There was a long painful moment of silence, before Martin carefully took the sword. 

“This is beautifully crafted,” he whispered. “Fits my hand perfectly.” Parsley looked up at Martin as he held the sword. He hadn’t given an answer, and that was eating at Parsley’s gut. “Where on earth did you find a sword so beautiful? Who crafted it? It is truly a work of art…”

“I did,” Parsley answered slowly. He still knelt in front of Martin. “It is tradition in my family.” He swallowed. “What...what is your answer?” Martin turned to him with a small smile, one that was much more sinister than Parsley had ever seen on his face. 

“Oh Parsley, I love you dearly,” he whispered. “Which is why it pains me to do this.”

With two flicks of the wrist, Parsley suddenly had a bleeding wound on each cheek. He yelped in surprise, for the pain didn’t even hit him. In his moment of lapse, Martin grabbed him by his collar. He kissed him soundly, before shoving Parsley, roughly, into the cave. He removed a rock from above the entrance, and a small shower of rocks fell, effectively blocking the exit. 

“It truly does pain me, Parsley!” Martin yelled. Parsley just stared at the rocks blocking his exit in disbelief. “I truly do love you! But I’ve been working my way up for years, and I can’t give that up for a silly man with a beautiful sword! Adieu Parsley! I’ll give your father your love!” The sinister tone in his voice made Parsley afraid.

And his heart broke.

“Martin!” He roared, slamming his body against the rocks. “You coward! You fiend! Let me out! Martin!” He screamed for as long as he could bear to, until his voice was hoarse. And then he sobbed, for as long as there were tears inside him. He didn’t know how long he stayed in that cave, but it couldn’t have been more than a day. For when the morning sun shone through a gap at the top of the rocks, he realized there was hope.

He climbed the rocks, as hard as it may have been. He managed to do so in three attempts, and only sustained minor scrapes and cuts. He reached the gap in the rocks and began to claw at the rocks surrounding it. He managed to shove enough rocks out that there was a space big enough for him to squeeze through. He fell to the ground on the other side. He needed a moment to catch his breath. 

He didn’t have such leisure.

He raced as fast as his legs would carry him through the woods, desperate to get back home. He raced through the town, ignoring anyone who called for him. He burst into his home, and looked around. He began to call for his father before he saw all the blood. He didn't know how he had missed the trail leading out the house. He screamed, the sound of true pain.

That sound has only been made a handful of times in the history of man. Once, when a widow lost her last attempt to have a child. Once, when a man lost his wife and child in one day in the most violent way possible. Once, when an elderly man died and his grandchildren found him amongst the ashes of his wife that he had desperately tried to hold in his final moments. 

None of them sounded quite like this.

True pain is just as strong as true love. And Parsley began his quest to prove it.

The six fingered sword had been left behind in his house, with a note. Parsley didn’t bother with the note, simply burned it. His father’s body was not there, but the trail of blood out the door implied that Martin had dragged the body off somewhere. Parsley took the sword, a few worldly belongings, and some rations, before he set out into the world. He was going to find him, the six fingered man who had killed his father. But first, he needed to be able to face him.

Parsley spent the next ten years of his life doing nothing but practicing the sword. He learned as many tactics and strategies as possible, from the best people he could find. He learned with the best swordsman in Spain, with the best one in Italy, then France. Anywhere he could find someone who was skilled and would teach him. He would not move on until he could beat them. Slowly, Parsley began to fight his way through Europe, taking down the best swordsman he could find in each country. 

Parsley had truly become a master.

The only problem was...now he was stuck. 

He looked all over for the six fingered man. He went back to Spain to search, and then worked his way through Europe a second time to try and find him. No luck. Only confused people when he asked to see their right hand. 

And so, like many grieving people, Parsley turned to the bottle.

He began to drink, and drink heavily. He would have a bottle, and a bottle would turn into three, and then to five, and then more. How much it was depended on the day, or when in the year of drinking it was, but it was always much too much. He eventually ran out of money, and had to appeal to people for drinks. It didn’t work.

Until he met The Man. 

The Man only asked that he get sober enough to be able to help him on his next job. One job turned into several, along with gaining a large woman to help them. Parsley never gave up on his quest, but he had to pay for booze somehow. So, he followed The Man’s orders. And his orders were that The Man In Black was to die…

Parsley looked over the edge of the cliff at The Man In Black. He was slowly making his way up the cliff. He looked to be about seventy-five feet away from the edge. Parsley watched as he made it to sixty feet before he lost his patience.

“Hello there!” He called. The Man In Black looked up at him, and he waved lamely. “Slow going?” 

“Look, this is really quite difficult, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t distract me,” The Man In Black said.

“Right,” Parsley said, “sorry.” He turned away from the edge of the cliffs and began to practice footing. After a moment though, he went back to the edge of the cliffs. “I don’t suppose you could speed things up?”

“Look, if you’re really so hard pressed, you could throw down a rope, or a tree branch, or find something useful to do,” The Man In Black said. 

“I could do that,” Parsley said with a smile, “but I don’t think you’d accept my help, given that I’m just waiting around to kill you.”

“That does put a damper on our relationship.” 

Parsley chuckled at The Man In Black’s tone. “But! I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top!” Parsley said. 

“As comforting as that is, I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait,” The Man In Black said. 

Parsley huffed. “I hate waiting,” he muttered. He turned away, only to turn right back. “I give you my word as a Spaniard!” 

“No good!” The Man In Black struggled with his footing, and for a moment Parsley thought he was going to fall. But he righted himself. “I’ve known too many Spaniards!” 

“I swear on the soul of my father, Jimothan Botch, you will reach the top alive.” 

There was a moment of silence.

“Throw me the rope.” 

Parsley quickly unwound some of the rope from the rock and tossed it over the side. The Man In Black grasped it tightly, and Parsley began to pull. The Man In Black half climbed, and was half dragged up the remaining feet, and up onto the plateau. He stood and drew his sword.

“No, no, catch your breath,” Parsley said. “We will duel when you are ready.”

“Thank you,” The Man In Black said. He sat on a rock, and removed his right boot to empty it of the rocks that had gotten into it. Parsley watched him intently. He didn’t look like Martin but...he was wearing a mask…

“You don’t happen to have six fingers on your right hand, do you?” Parsley asked. The Man In Black looked at him oddly.

“Do you start all conversations this way?” He asked.

“My father was murdered by a man with six fingers.” 

The Man In Black studied Parsley’s face for a moment, before he held up his right hand. Five fingers. 

Parsley nodded. “Thank you.”

“I suppose you’re after this man then?” The Man In Black asked. Parsley nodded.

“Yes. I have spent the past twenty years on a quest for revenge,” he said. “I have studied fencing for as long as I could. I am considered a bit of a master.” The Man In Black smiled.

“I suppose I am in for a real challenge then,” he said. “Have you really spent the last twenty years learning to fence?”

“Well, the first ten years, yes. Lately, I have been searching. You see, I can’t seem to find the six fingered man anywhere. I have searched everywhere it seems. No luck…” Parsley sighed.

“What happened? Why did he murder your father?” The Man In Black asked.

“Aren’t you nosy,” Parsley replied. 

The Man In Black smiled. “Can’t help it. It’s in my nature.” 

“He was after power. The Botch family is well known in Spain. Well...we were.” The Man In Black nodded. “He gave me these,” Parsley said, gently brushing a finger along each of the scars on his cheeks. “And when I find that bastard, I am going to look him dead in the eye and say…

“Hello. My name is Parsley Botch. You killed my father, broke my heart, and betrayed my soul. Prepare to die.”

The Man In Black nodded, before standing. “Are you ready?” Parsley asked.

“Whether I am or not, you’ve been more than fair.” The Man In Black drew his sword and got into position. Parsley took note of the fact that he was left handed.

“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you,” Parsley said.

“You seem a decent fellow,” The Man In Black replied. “I hate to die.”

“Begin.”

Parsley approached first, and decided to test the waters. One, two, each one blocked. Another one, and the masked man dodged. He then returned the favor, one two one. The two of them began to fence in earnest. Parsley would thrust, and the masked man would dodge. They’d swing at each other, each move expertly blocked. The masked man began to climb up the rocky terrain, and Parsley followed him, still on the offensive. The man in black jumped down from the rock, landing on the sandy ground. Parsley vaulted over him, deciding to show off a bit. He did a flip, and landed behind the masked man. The Man In Black smiled, before stabbing at Parsley’s heart. Now he was on offense.

“You are wonderful!” Parsley said, as he blocked the masked man’s onslaught of attacks. 

“Thank you, I’ve worked very hard to become so,” he replied. He began to back Parsley up against the edge of the cliff. Parsley let himself get so far that the very back of his heels were over the edge.

“I admit, you are better than I am,” Parsley said.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because I know something you don’t know!” Parsley quickly swapped hands, and sliced at the masked man’s ankles. He jumped back in surprise. “I’m not left handed!”

He backed the masked man into a corner, a small wall being the only thing keeping the man from falling off the cliff. Parsley shoved him against the wall, their swords still meeting. The masked man just smiled.

“There’s something I should tell you,” he grunted, before shoving Parsley back enough to stand up straight again. “I’m not left handed either.” He swapped his sword to his right hand, and instantly lunged for Parsley. Parsley managed to jump back in time, but the masked man didn’t stop his onslaught. He disarmed Parsley and threw his sword a distance off.

Parsley quickly jumped from the raised area they were on. He grabbed onto an old iron bar and used the momentum from his leap to land beside his sword again. The Man In Black threw his own sword so it landed with the handle in the air. He jumped for the iron bar as well, and swung around it once, before landing on his feet (much more gracefully than Parsley had). He picked up his sword again and smirked at Parsley.

“Who are you?” Parsley asked quietly.

“No one of consequence,” the man replied.

“I must know!”

“Get used to disappointment.” 

Parsley shrugged, before he had to quickly block a blow from the masked man. 

The Man In Black delivered a series of quick attacks, but didn’t seem to grow tired. One, three, two, four, any number of attacks, any number of strategies. Parsley realized he was outskilled, and decided to try for force instead. He used both hands to attack, but the masked man simply dodged out of the way. Parsley had a moment of lapse when his arms began to burn from effort, and in that moment The Man In Black disarmed him. Parsley stared at him for a moment, before falling to his knees.

“Kill me quickly,” he muttered.

“I’d no sooner destroy a stained glass window than kill an artist such as yourself,” The Man In Black said, circling Parsley. “However, because I can’t have you following me…” He brought the handle of his sword down on Parsley’s head, hard. Parsley fell forward, unconscious. “Please understand that I hold you in the highest regard.” 

And with that, The Man In Black ran off in the direction the other two kidnappers went.

“He didn’t die? Inconceivable!” The Man yelled as he watched The Man In Black come running over the hill. Borbra looked frozen, and she carefully put Boris down. “What are you doing?” The Man asked.

“He killed Parsley…” she muttered. 

“I’m sorry,” Boris muttered to her. She turned to him and smiled slightly, even as tears began to fall. 

“Thank you, highness,” she said. 

“Both of you shut your traps!” The Man yelled. “Untie his ankles!” Borbra set about untying Boris’s ankles as The Man watched The Man In Black approach them. 

“I’m really sorry about your friend,” Boris whispered to Borbra. 

She wiped at her eyes. “Thank you… I’ll be alright. It’s a dangerous line of work,” she whispered back. 

“Why not leave? Your boss is a jerk,” Boris replied. Borbra smiled, and finished untying his ankles. 

“What now?” she asked as she stood.

“You’re going to wait here, and when the masked man approaches, you’re going to finish him off,” The Man said. “I’ll get him to the border and take care of business.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t kill?!?” Borbra yelled. “I’m not going to finish him off!”

“Then I’ll have to get a new giant!” The Man yelled back. 

Borbra was quiet for a moment, before she looked very determined. “I suppose you will!” She yelled. She sat heavily on the ground. “I am not moving another inch. When the masked man comes, I’ll point him in your direction, and then you’ll be sorry!” The Man just scoffed. 

“Have it your way!” He turned and dragged Boris off towards the Quiktran border. Borbra sat down heavily, and looked around. After a moment, she began to cry. She hated being alone…

BORBRA

Where Borbra came from, large babies were incredibly common. In her country, if a baby was under ten pounds at birth, people became worried about the poor thing’s health. As is common with babies that size, they turned out fine, but people still worried. 

When Borbra was born, she weighed eleven pounds. Her mother was a little worried that her daughter was so small, but she didn’t have to be worried for very long. Most babies lose a few ounces in their first day. Borbra gained two pounds. And her exponential growth wouldn’t stop there. 

By the time Borbra was one, she weighed eighty five pounds. She was quite healthy, seemed to be progressing well, just much faster than was normal. By the time she was five, she was the size of an average woman. This did not go over well in school.

“Brute!” The other kids would yell. “Bully! Freak!” 

Borbra was a kind soul, she was none of the things the other children yelled at her. However, she was incredibly strong. She had to be very careful when she would use any tool, and especially around the other kids. She once tried to save a bird that had fallen out of a tree and hurt its wing. She accidentally squeezed it too hard and it died. She ran home to her parents and sobbed for the whole night.

“It’s alright dear,” her mother whispered as she cried into her shoulder. “You were trying to help. The birdy understands. I’m sure they’re very happy you tried so sweetly.”

When Borbra turned seven, the kids in her class started doing something new. They would throw themselves at her, or punch her, or kick her. None of it hurt her, she was much too sturdy to be hurt by such little fists. She didn’t say anything, she just let them pretend to beat her up and yell things at her. She had learned that when she spoke, it only made them more upset. So, she let them do as they pleased. 

Until one day, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please stop,” she muttered as one of the worse children punched her knees repeatedly. 

“Shut up!” He yelled at her. She sobbed, and he only became more vicious with his swings. 

She, very very carefully, put her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. He began to scream and cry, and Borbra instantly joined him. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, she just didn’t want to be punched anymore. When a teacher came to see what had happened, Borbra was almost immediately expelled. She was told to never return to the school, and she ran home crying. 

Her mother did her best to comfort her, but there was no comforting the child. She sat in her room and cried for days. All she had wanted was to go to school and learn, but she’d never get to do that now. Her family didn’t have enough money to send her somewhere farther away, and there was nowhere else nearby. 

Her father had a wonderful new idea.

“Wrestling?” Borbra asked, looked down at her father in confusion. 

“Yes! You’ll be wonderful at it!” He said. He took her hand and led her into the backyard. She followed along, although she already didn’t like the idea. Her father stood opposite her, while her mother stood on the stairs leading to their little house. “Alright dear, make a fist.” Borbra hesitated, before making a fist with her right hand. “Oh dear…” her father muttered. 

“It’s alright honey, you just have to explain to her,” her mother called.

“What? What did I do wrong?” She asked.

“When you make a fist, you must keep your thumb outside of the other fingers,” her father said. Borbra nodded, and tried again. “There you go! Now dear...I want you to punch me.”

“What?!?” Borbra yelped. Her parents weren’t always the best, but she loved them dearly. She would never want to hurt her father. “I can’t!”

“Come on dear! It’s not hard! Just swing for me!” her father said.

“Go one Borbra, you can do it!” her mother said.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Borbra yelled, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t make me! Please!”

“Come on Borbra! You’ve got to do this for our family! Otherwise-” Her father didn’t get to finish since she took her swing, and he ended up splayed against the back of their house. Borbra sobbed and fell to her knees.

It took almost a year for her father’s jaw to heal, but he didn’t seem put out at all. In fact, he was the happiest he’d ever been. Every day he would teach her new things about fighting, the best he could without being able to speak. And every month, Borbra would have gained another inch. Her mother made sure that she ate well, keeping her healthy and ready to fight. When she turned eight, she was as many feet tall, and she had cried herself to sleep every night for a year. 

“I think,” her father said, still a little stiffly, “that you are ready for the ring.”

Borbra’s first fight was against the strongest and toughest man in their country. His agent had only had to take one look at her, and had agreed to the fight. The man was in the ring, ready for the fight, but Borbra hesitated by the side. She was afraid, horribly afraid. She begged her parents to not make her go into the ring, but when her father raised his voice, she went in, too frightened of disappointing him. 

She got a grip on the man. She squeezed. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the man slowly turned purple. She squeezed tighter. He gasped for breath.

“That’s enough!” Her father yelled, clearly afraid. She jumped, and set the man down. 

“You are an excellent fighter,” she whispered to him, “I just got lucky.” The referee slowly approached her.

“Raise your hand,” he said. “You’re the winner.” Borbra did as he asked, and waited for the crowd’s reaction. 

“Boooo!” They yelled. Borbra felt tears in her eyes. “Brute! Bully! Freak!” She rushed out of the ring, right past her parents, and straight to where they were staying. 

She lay in bed and listened to her parents’ whispering. She heard her father insisting this was a good thing, and her mother begging him to reconsider. But his mind was made up, and nothing her mother said seemed to sway him. She lay perfectly still when her mother peeked into the room to check on her.

“A sleeping child usually breathes,” she whispered, before coming to sit beside Borbra. Borbra let out the breath she’d been holding. Her mother carefully reached out and ran her fingers through her hair. “You’re a wonderful girl Borbra. We’ll find a crowd that likes you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she replied. 

Her mother frowned. “Oh dear, I swear.”

“It isn’t fair!” 

“Why are you rhyming everyone I’m saying?” Her mother asked. Borbra grew small. “You know I will never judge you darling.”

“I want to be a poet,” Borbra whispered. “I want to write beautiful things that make people feel.”

“A poet?” Her father laughed as he came into the room. “You can barely write!”

“Oh hush!” Her mother said. “She can be whatever she’d like! We’ll just have to use some of the money we earned to find someone who will teach her! That shouldn’t be too hard, I would think.”

“No, no, we’re going to do something better,” her father said. Borbra didn’t like the look in his eyes. “We’re going to take the money we’ve made and use it to travel! Our daughter will be the best wrestler in the world!” Borbra and her mother stayed silent. 

So, they began their journey across Europe.

First, they went to Spain.

“Pain,” Borbra whispered as they made their way into the country. She fought the champ. She squeezed. He turned blue.

“Booo!”

Next, Germany.

“Currency.” It was more of a near rhyme, but she was only ten. She fought the champ. She squeezed. He turned blue.

“Booo!”

Next, France.

“Dance,” Borbra whispered. She fought the champ. She squeezed, he turned blue, the crowd booed.

Except for one. 

In the front row, there was a little girl who looked at Borbra in wonder. She was average size for a ten year old. She was holding a bouquet of flowers. When Borbra rushed away from the ring, crying, the girl followed just as closely as her parents. 

“Wait!” The little girl called. Borbra stopped, and turned to her. She waited for the yelling, for the tiny fists, but they didn’t come. Instead, the girl held out the bouquet. “For you.”

“For me?” Borbra asked, taking the flowers very very gently. The girl nodded.

“You fight wonderfully,” she said. “And...you are very pretty.” Both young girls blushed and looked away. “Do you think you will ever come back to France?” 

“I...I don’t know,” Borbra said. “I will try to, though. As long as you promise to come see me fight.” The girl grinned at her.

“I promise.” There was a loud shout, and the girl turned to look at the crowd that was exiting the arina. “I have to go… thank you for the lovely fight. I hope I will see you again!” The girl ran off, and Borbra watched as she disappeared.

“See?” Her father said when she turned back to her parents. “Not everyone hates you.”

The journey was no longer so bad. Whenever Borbra would get upset, she would pull out the flower her mother had helped her press. It was a carnation, her mother said, and it always made Borbra smile. Borbra would think of the little girl, and smile.

It didn’t last.

While in Greece (geese, thank one was easy) her parents died of the plague. Borbra would have gone too, but something made it so she never got sick. 

“We’ve done all we can for you,” her father said, “good luck.”

“I love you,” her mother whispered. 

And just like that, they were gone.

Borbra mourned, but only for a short while. She was horrified to realize that she would not miss her father. Her mother was another story, but that didn’t much matter when she had to keep moving. She was thirteen years old, nine foot four, and horribly alone. 

While she was traveling in Turkey, she finally found a way to make the crowds stop booing. She had to fight groups. It had started when a man had been offended by her petting one of his cattle (she’d learned how to be careful around animals by then, and hadn’t hurt one since that bird all those years ago). Why he was offended, she never knew, but him and his two sons were strong. She fought them off easily, and the people around cheered for her. From that point on, she never fought one person if she could avoid it. 

She joined a traveling circus, and became their strong woman. She would fight groups at a time, and everyone would cheer. She didn’t mind that she was forced to sleep with the animals (in fact she was quite happy about it). She didn’t mind that her coworkers avoided her like the plague that had claimed her parents. She didn’t mind that the crowds were cheering for her feats and not for her. She didn’t mind any of it. 

That all changed, again, in France.

Borbra has such high hopes for France. They were going to the same city as the fight she’d had years ago. She hoped desperately to see the little girl, although she supposed the girl wouldn’t be so little now. Borbra was nineteen, and the girl had appeared to be about her age. When Borbra had finished the fight, she waited for the crowd to cheer, and hoped to hear that voice she’d heard all those years ago.

“Booo!”

She fled the tent as the familiar jabs of “Brute! Bully! Freak!” (cute, wooly, meek) flew after her. She retreated to her corner of the animal tent, and didn’t come out until the circus began to move. 

Everywhere was the same (lame). She was booed out of the ring (sting). She began to cry as she went out to do her performance, but it only made everyone hate her more (spore). Eventually, the circus abandoned her, in the middle of Greenland (planned). The loneliest place on earth (worth). 

And that was where The Man found her.

He was horrible, he yelled and he fussed, but he never left her behind. And Parsley wasn’t bad at all. He would tell her all about his quest, and she would tell him all about her dream, and the two of them would rhyme. The Man gave the orders though, and his orders were that The Man In Black had to die…

She refused. 

And, now, she was alone.

“Excuse me?” A gentle voice called. Borbra jerked her head up, and saw The Man In Black looking at her in confusion. “You work for that man, don’t you? You’re going to try to kill me, right?”

“No,” she muttered. “I don’t work for him anymore. And I’ve never killed a person. I don’t intend to start.” The masked man nodded.

“I believe you,” he said. “Well...I’m in a bit of a hurry but...would you like an ear to listen?” He carefully walked over and sat beside her. 

“Thank you, but I think you’ll have to hurry if you’re going to catch that awful man and the prince,” she said. 

“Nonsense,” the masked man said. “I know the prince, and I know he’d like you to be happy.”

“Do you work for the princess? Did you really kill Parsley?” Borbra asked.

“No and no. I despise that woman. And...well, your friend is very much alive. Unconscious, because I couldn’t have him follow me, but very alive.” 

Borbra instantly hopped to her feet. “I have to go rescue him!” She said.

“I’d go the long way if I were you,” The Man In Black said. “I believe the aforementioned princess is on her way to track you all, and she won’t be pleased when she finds her beloved’s kidnappers.” 

Borbra nodded. “Thank you small man,” she said, before running off to find Parsley.

“I’m not small!” the man called after her.

She couldn’t care less. Parsley was alive!

The Man In Black smiled and shook his head, before following the footsteps towards the Quiktrian border.

Borbra was just getting to the area where Parsley had been when Martha did. Borbra hid a ways off to just watch, and prayed that Parsley had gotten away. 

“There was a fight…” Martha muttered as she retraced the footsteps of the fencing match. “They were both masters…”

“What happened?” Martin asked from atop his horse. “How did it end?”

“The loser...ran off that way,” Martha said, pointing in the direction of where Borbra was hiding. “And the winner followed those footsteps to Quiktran.”

“Should we track them both?” Martin asked. 

Martha shook her head as she mounted her steed. “The loser is of no concern. It’s Boris that matters.” 

Martin nodded and the small party of horses rode off towards the Quiktrian border. 

Borbra turned to behind her. She’d never been a tracker, but there were some footprints she could follow, at least for a while. She probably couldn’t be led straight to Parsley, but she could find the general direction he was going in. So she set out after him, and hoped that he wasn’t going back to The Man.

Speaking of, The Man In Black was rounding a boulder, when he saw The Man and Boris sitting in front of a large flat rock. The Man was holding a dagger to Boris’s neck, and the prince had been blindfolded. The Man In Black smiled cheekily and carefully stepped forward.

“Allow me to explain,” he said.

“There’s nothing to explain!” The Man said. “You’re trying to steal what I’ve rightfully kidnapped!”

“Well...I wouldn’t use the word steal…” The Man In Black said, taking a hesitant step forward. 

“Really? What word would you use?” The Man asked. 

“Rescue?” Another step forward.

“So you work for the princess?”

“I didn’t say that.” Another step.

“You know, doing that is killing him,” The Man said. He pressed the dagger closer to Boris’s neck, and Boris sobbed quietly. 

“Well...it would appear we are at an impasse,” the masked man said.

“I quite agree! I can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my intellect!” 

“You’re that smart?” The masked man nodded.

“Certainly!”

“Then I propose a battle of wits!”

“For the boy?” The Man asked. The Man In Black nodded. “To the death?” The Man In Black nodded again. “Very well, I accept!”

“Then pour the wine!” The Man In Black sat opposite The Man and Boris. The Man poured the wine he had into two separate glasses, and set them on the rock. The Man In Black pulled a small vial out of his chest pocket, and opened it. Inside was a white powder. “Inhale this, but do not touch,” he said, holding it out to The Man. The Man took it, and did as instructed.

“I smell nothing,” he said.

“What you do not smell,” The Man In Black said, “is called iocane powder. It’s tasteless, orderless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is one of the world’s deadlier poisons.” The Man In Black took the two cups and held them behind his back. When he put them on the rock again, the vial was empty. “The battle of wits had begun.”

The Man sat silently for a very long time. No one knows quite what went through his head, but one can assume that it was the thoughts of a man with great intellect. He claimed to be one after all. After a very long time, he asked a single question.

“May I smell the cups?” 

“Of course,” the masked man replied. He looked rather nervous. The Man smelled both cups.

“You’re right, I smell nothing,” he said. They sat in silence for another while, The Man In Black looking increasingly nervous. “What in the world could that be?” The Man yelled, pointing behind the masked man.

“What?” The Man In Black asked, turned around. “I don’t see anything!” While his back was turned, The Man swapped their glasses. The Man In Black turned back around and glared at The Man. “I think your eyesight is failing you old man.”

“I could have sworn I saw something…” The Man began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” The Man In Black asked.

“Oh, nothing, nothing! I’ll tell you in a moment. First, let’s drink! You from your glasses, and me from mine!” The Man replied. The two men drank, and The Man In Black smirked.

“You guessed wrong,” he said.

“You only think I guessed wrong!” The Man yelled. “That’s what’s so funny! I switched our cups while you were looking away! You’ve fallen for one of the seven classic blunders! The most well known is ‘never get involved in a land war in Asia’! But only slightly less well known is ‘never go in with a Russian when death is on the line’!” The Man began to laugh violently.

Only to fall over, dead, a moment later. 

The Man In Black came over to Boris and carefully removed the blindfold. He smiled gently at him, and carefully untied his wrists. The moment he was free, Boris threw himself at the masked man, sobbing loudly.

“Oh!” The Man In Black said, slowly wrapping his arms around Boris.

“Thank you,” Boris choked out between sobs. “Thank you, thank you…”

“Slow down highness, I’m not working for the princess,” the masked man said. 

“I don’t care,” Boris whispered. “Anything to get away from that man.”

“Who was he?” The Man In Black asked.

“My father. He was a horrible man, he...he hurt me as a child and-

_“Woah! Is that really the story?” The daughter asked, staring at her father. He nodded solemnly._

_“I’m afraid so. It seems Boris’s father was quite cruel,” her father replied. The daughter frowned._

_“Well...I'm glad he’s dead,” she said._

_“As am I. Shall I continue?” The daughter nodded._

“My father. He was a horrible man, he...he hurt me as a child and-” Boris didn’t get to finish his sentence as The Man In Black turned and began stabbing The Man violently. “Oh!”

“I do not put up with abusers,” The Man In Black hissed. After a moment, he sheathed his sword again. “Come with me highness.”

“But-”

“Now.” The Man In Black did not raise his voice, but it was so commanding that Boris began to follow even before the masked man took his hand to drag him along. 

Meanwhile, Martha had found where The Man In Black had confronted Borbra. 

“It’s...a little unclear…” she said. “There was certainly a giant...I don’t think they were defeated though. They appear to have run off that way. The original footprints lead...that way.” She pointed off towards the Quiktrian border. “If anyone in Quiktran has harmed him, there will be hell to pay.” She jumped back on her horse, and led the party on again. 

The Man In Black gently shoved Boris towards a large rock once they had run for a while. 

“Rest highness,” he said. Boris gasped for breath. 

“Who are you?” He asked.

“No one to be trifled with,” The Man In Black replied. 

“You will get whatever ransome you ask for!” Boris said loudly. The Man In Black laughed.

“No, no, this is something much different,” he said. “I couldn’t care for what your truest love will give me.”

“She is not my truest love!” Boris yelled. The Man In Black froze for a moment.

“She isn’t?” He asked quietly.

“No,” Boris replied. “I do not love her. I do not love at all.”

“Well...at least you’re honest,” The Man In Black said, his voice dark. Boris flinched away, but the masked man shook his head. “I would never hurt you highness. You have no reason to fear me.”

“You’ve killed a man. I have every reason to fear you.” The Man In Black shrugged.

“Perhaps you do. But I will not harm you. You don’t have to worry about that.” The Man In Black looked behind them. “We have to keep moving.” He took Boris’s hand again and dragged him along the path. 

Martha and her party had arrived at The Man’s body, and were looking it over. Martha had gotten her hands on the vial, and she was smelling it.

“Iocane powder. I’d bet my life on it,” she said. She turned to The Man’s body and kicked it lightly. “It looks like he did.”

“What about the stab wounds?” Martin asked.

“He was stabbed after his death. Perhaps out of anger?” Martha stood for a moment pondering. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyhow. We’ve got to find Boris. That’s all that matters.” She mounted her horse again. “If we find him dead, I will be very put out.” She spurred her horse on and the party followed her.

The Man In Black stopped with Boris once more. Boris sat heavily on a rock, while the masked man paced around.

“I know who you are,” Boris said. “Your cruelty reveals everything. You’re the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

“I am he!” The Man In Black said, bowing slightly and comically. “What can I do for you, highness?”

“You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.” The Man In Black tutted.

“Such fire...what have I done to cause your ire?” He asked. Boris swallowed thickly as more tears began to fall.

“You killed my love,” he said. The Man In Black reached for him, but only for a moment, before going to sit on the ground a bit aways from him.

“Perhaps I did. I kill a lot of people,” he said. “What was she like? Another princess? Stuffy and uptight like this one?”

“No,” Boris said, “a stable hand. With eyes as rich as Swiss chocolates.” He stared into space for a moment, before turning back to The Man In Black. “You slaughtered him in cold blood. I died that day.” The Man In Black was quiet for a long moment, before standing again. 

“I think I remember this stable hand of yours,” he said. “He died well, you’ll be pleased to hear that. Didn’t beg or bribe. Just simply said…” The Man In Black paused for a moment. “‘Please’,” he muttered, and his voice broke. He cleared his throat. “It was the please that caught my attention. I asked him what he had to live for and he said…’true love’.” The masked man turned to Boris again. “Perhaps it is a good thing that I killed him. He did not have to see how you've betrayed him.” His shoulders shook, but Boris was crying too hard to notice. 

“You know nothing of me!” He yelled, standing up. There was the sound of horse hooves from far off, and The Man In Black turned towards where they came form. He saw Martha and her party, and stopped to stare at them. “You can die for all I care,” Boris said coldly, before shoving The Man In Black harshly down a steep hill.

“As you wish!” The Man In Black called as he fell. Boris’s hands flew to his mouth. 

“Oh my sweet Kamal...what have I done?” 

And with that, he threw himself down the hill as well.

_The father closed the book, and his daughter jumped at the sound._

_“What are you doing?” She asked. “What happens next?"_

_“I think it’s about time for lunch,” he said. “Is there anything in particular you’d like?”_

_“What the heck Dad?!? What happens? Kamal’s alive? Is he okay? How’d he live?” Her father just smiled._

_“After lunch,” he said, “I will tell you. But first, I think we should have some soup.” His daughter groaned and fell backwards in bed. “Patience my dear, patience."_

_"You'd better hurry,” she said. He chuckled._

_“I’ll be as quick as a bunny,” he said. He kissed her forehead and left the room. His daughter huffed, but got comfortable in bed._

_She couldn’t wait to hear more._


	4. The Fire Swamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! The Fire Swamp! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I got a little distracted by another project (not one I'm posting, unfortunately). I really hope you guys enjoy this!

_“Alright my bloom, it looks like we’ve both finished,” The father said. His daughter nodded vigorously._

_“Yes! Yes, read the rest of the book!” She said, bouncing in her bed slightly. Her father chuckled and set down his mug._

_“Where exactly did we leave off?” He asked._

_“Boris had just thrown himself down the hill after Kamal,” his daughter reminded him._

_“Yes, that’s it...now, let’s see…”_

“You know nothing of me!” He yelled, standing up. There was the sound of horse hooves from far off, and The Man In Black turned towards where they came form. He saw Martha and her party, and stopped to stare at them. “You can die for all I care,” Boris said coldly, before shoving The Man In Black harshly down a steep hill.

“As you wish!” The Man In Black called as he fell. Boris’s hands flew to his mouth. 

“Oh, my sweet Kamal...what have I done?” 

And with that, he threw himself down the hill as well.

Boris tried to stay on his feet, but the hill was much too steep. He quickly stumbled and began to tumble down the hill. Kamal was already doing the same. The two of them fell for a while, before they both slid to the bottom of the hill. Boris felt frozen, but Kamal was quickly by his side. Kamal wrapped an arm around Boris’s waist, and propped himself up with the other arm.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” He asked in a whisper.

“Well...you were dead…” Boris replied softly.

“Oh, my love...death cannot stop true love. It can only slow it down.” Kamal leaned in and kissed Boris soundly.

Boris reached up to card a hand through Kamal’s hair. The mask and hood had come loose and fallen off at some point while he was tumbling down the hill. Boris held Kamal as close as he could, and Kamal slowly climbed on top of him. They had plenty of time before Martha and her party would arrive, so they-

_The father cleared his throat and turned bright red. “I...I believe we should skip ahead a bit,” he said, his voice strained._

_“Please do,” his daughter replied, making a face._

_“Alright...let’s see…”_

Boris stood and smoothed out the skirt of his dress. “Where are we going now?”

“You’ll have to follow me,” Kamal said. He quickly took Boris’s hand. He paused for a moment to kiss his knuckles, before racing along the path with Boris. “I’m afraid that your shove has lost us a bit of time.”

“As if our actions a moment ago didn’t,” Boris replied teasingly.

“Believe it or not,” Kamal turned to him with a smirk, “I actually accounted for that when planning.” Boris blushed and Kamal chuckled. “Come now, we have to hurry. We can’t let your betrothed catch up to us.”

“Where are we going?” Boris asked again.

“To ‘The Revenge’! The Dread Pirate Roberts’s ship! But to get there...we’ll have to get through The Fire Swamp…”

“The Fire Swamp!” Boris shrieked. “We’ll never survive!”

“Nonsense!” Kamal replied cheerily. “You’re only saying that because no one has before!”

Meanwhile, up on the top of the cliff, Martha and her party were watching the two of them follow the path.

“He must have seen us coming,” Martha said, “and that explains his error.”

“What error would that be?” Martin asked. 

“Unless I am wrong...and I am never wrong...they are heading directly into The Fire Swamp,” Martha explained. The whole party gasped, and looked down into the ravine. “We’ll ride along to the other side, and when...no, if...they make it through, we will surprise them.” 

The party rode along the cliff, heading to cut off the two lovers.

Meanwhile, Kamal and Boris had entered The Fire Swamp. It was truly disgusting. Its tall, gnarled trees blotted out any sunlight that might have tried to make it more cheerful. Its only undergrowth was dark, prickly vines with thorns. Thick vines hung between the trees, giving the whole swamp an eerie feeling. There were no sounds of animals, making The Fire Swamp scarily quiet.

“Are you sure about this?” Boris asked in a whisper.

“We don’t have much of a choice, my darling,” Kamal replied. He drew his sword and used it to slice through the vines in their way. “You know...it isn’t really that bad.”

“You really are daft,” Boris said, but his voice held only affection. Kamal turned to him with a small smile, and stood on his toes to kiss Boris’s cheek. “Remind me, love, what are the three dangers of The Fire Swamp? I only remember that there are three.” 

Kamal opened his mouth to reply, but there was a loud popping noise that cut him off. A pillar of flame shot out of the ground, and quickly caught Boris’s dress. He screamed and fell to the ground. Kamal was by his side in an instant, attempting to snuff out the flame. After a few moments of panic, the flame was out, and the two lovers sat on the ground, staring at each other wide eyed.

“That...that would be number one,” Kamal said, swallowing thickly. “The jets of flame.” He moved to hold Boris’s face in his hands. “Are you alright, my darling?”

“Yes...yes, I’m alright,” Boris whispered. He leaned into the hands on his face. “How are we going to avoid those?”

“Well...there’s a popping noise beforehand, isn’t there?” Kamal said. He slowly stood, and then helped Boris up. “Easily avoided!”

“What happened to the little stable hand that was too anxious to even speak in town?” Boris asked. He sounded teasing, but he was genuinely concerned that Kamal was no longer the man he knew. 

Kamal turned to him with a small, anxious smile. “Oh trust me, he’s still very much here. But if you’ve gone through everything I have, you have to learn to hide your fear.”

“What have you been through?” Boris asked. “How did you survive the Dread Pirate Roberts?”

“A funny story actually!” Kamal said. He sliced through another vine. “What I told you about saying ‘please’ was true. When I told Roberts about your beauty and kindness, he allowed me to live. He said he’d never had a cabin boy before, but that it was worth trying for a day. At the end of the day, when I’d done more work than I’d ever done in my life just trying to stay alive, he said… ‘Excellent job today Kamal, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning’. For a year he said that. ‘Excellent job today Kamal, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning’. Well, in that year, I picked up every bit of information I could. Fencing, climbing, money management, everything I could. Everything needed to be...well, to be a proper pirate.”

There was a loud popping noise, and Kamal quickly lifted Boris to pull him out of the way of the jet of fire. Boris gawked at him for a moment. Kamal was so very small compared to him, and Boris certainly weighed too much for Kamal to be able to do that. Kamal just smiled and winked at him. “I also learned how to do things like that.

“Now, on the one year mark, Roberts took me by the shoulders and led me into his cabin. You have to understand that, at this point, the two of us were rather close. I wasn’t expecting to die, but you never do know. So, when I entered his cabin and saw two people I’d never seen before, you can imagine my surprise!” Kamal stopped for a moment, and looked over a vine. He sliced it, but took one end and began to tie it around Boris’s waist. “Trust me on this, my dear. This could come in handy.”

“Alright?” Boris said, thoroughly confused. Still, he had always loved a good story, so he asked, “Who were the two people?”

“One was a short man dressed quite nicely. Randy was what he went by, although I suspect that wasn’t his original name. I learned that he was the son of nobility who had been kidnapped for ransom. However, his family seemed glad to be rid of him, and Roberts hadn’t had the heart to kill him. The other was a young child, Tim Tam. When Roberts stepped into his cabin, he gave a full report to them. Apparently, they were really the one running the show! Imagine that, a ten year old being the real Dread Pirate Roberts!” 

“But how?” Boris asked. “The Dread Pirate Roberts has been terrorizing ships for twenty years!”

“Roberts let me in on his secret,” Kamal said. “He wasn’t really Roberts. His name was Gillis! The original Roberts, whose name was actually Ronbo, had been living like a king in Patagonia for fifteen years! Ronbo had handed it off to a man named Dallas, who then handed it off to Gillis. And Gillis, in turn, handed it off to me! So...for the past four years, I’ve been the Dread Pirate Roberts. Gillis stayed aboard for the first few months, all the while calling me Roberts. See, it’s the name that holds the fear. No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Kamal. Once the new crew was completely convinced… well, the three old pirates were off to live somewhere quite comfortably. As a family.” Kamal was quiet for a moment. “And, in all that time… I never stopped thinking of you.”

“Why didn’t you send me word?” Boris snapped. Kamal looked surprised by his angry tone. “You couldn’t’ve sent me a letter? Any word that you were alive?” Tears welled in Boris’s eyes, and, as upset as he was, he let Kamal hold him comfortingly. “I thought you were dead… Kamal, you were dead.”

Kamal shushed him gently. “Oh darling… I’m truly sorry. You deserved to hear from me, I should have told you. I should have come back to you…” Kamal stepped away from Boris, looking both angry and ashamed. “You were right. Marriage is nothing but a signed paper and some silly speeches. I was foolish to think that it would make me any happier than just being with you did. And then I couldn’t send word because I couldn’t possibly explain to you what I’d done. But… oh, darling… you were going to marry another. And that alone would have killed me…” Kamal carefully took Boris’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Will you ever forgive me?” 

“Yes,” Boris replied without hesitation. “Of course. I couldn’t bear to think of you without thinking of you fondly.”

“Then don’t,” Kamal said. “When we’ve escaped The Fire Swamp and gotten back to ‘The Revenge’, I shall take all the treasure I’ve… earned… and we will live far away, as comfortable as can be. You’ll see, my love. Nothing can stop us now.”

And with that, Kamal stepped forward. And immediately fell into the ground.

“Snow sand!” Boris screamed. Very similar to quicksand, but much faster and much deadlier. 

Boris pulled sharply on the vine around his waist to make sure it was secure, before jumping in after Kamal. 

At first, the snow sand felt quite nice. It had no density, so it was rather nice to float in. But Boris had been told the horrors of The Fire Swamp quite frequently as a child, and knew that it was only a matter of time until things would become bad. He began to swim downwards, keeping his eyes closed. Still, tiny sharp grains of the sand slid behind his eyelids. They stung and burnt, but he kept swimming downwards. He held his breath, but sand still slid up his nose and into his lungs. He fought the urge to cough because it would only fill his lungs faster.

He felt something firm brush his hand, and he grabbed onto it instantly. But...there was no skin. Boris realized as his skin began to burn that what he was holding was a skeleton. He threw it aside and dove deeper. His fingers brushed against something else, and he realized it was skin. He gripped it around the wrist, and felt whoever it was (and he was praying it was Kamal) weakly held his wrist in return. He began to pull on the vine, desperately trying to pull the two of them out of the snow sand. Eventually he couldn’t hold his breath anymore, and he took in a breath. His lungs filled with snow sand, and he felt as if he might scream from the burning in his lungs. He felt the hand let go of his wrist, and he almost screamed, but then two arms wrapped around his waist. With the extra hand, he was able to pull the two of them out of the snow sand.

Boris began to cough violently when he was on solid land again, and he heard Kamal coughing next to him. Sand just kept coming up, until eventually Boris began to throw up. He felt Kamal’s hands on his back, and he began to sob as well. Kamal shushed him through his own coughs. After a few moments, he collapsed, and Kamal instantly came to hold him up again.

“We’ll never make it,” Boris sobbed. He held Kamal tightly. “We might as well give up now.”

“N-no,” Kamal said, sounding very sure despite his stutter. “D-don’t you… don’t you see? We… we’ve already bested two of the dangers of The Fire Swamp.” Kamal carefully stood, and helped Boris up. Boris leaned on him heavily as the two of them walked. “The j-jets of fl-flame, those are easy! There’s...there’s a popping noise before each one!”

“Darling, why are you talking like that?” Boris asked. Kamal didn’t reply, just coughed loudly. “Ah… too much sand?”

“Y-yes…” Kamal replied. “But! That’s… that’s a g-good thing! Because… because of my carelessness, we now know what the snow sand looks like! So we can avoid that as well!” Kamal shakily drew his sword and began to slice through more vines. “We only have…” He coughed violently, more sand coming up. “We only have to worry about the Y’owls! And… and I don’t think they even exist!”

No sooner did he have the sentence out, than a Y’owl pounced on him from behind.

Kamal screamed, and dropped his sword from the shock and sudden weight on his back. The giant bird began to peck at his arm, and it’s beak (sharper than any sword ever forged) began to slice at his shoulder. He screamed and fell to the ground. The Y’owl began to aim for his head, but he managed to dodge out of the way.

In the meantime, Boris had managed to grab Kamal’s sword. You didn’t have to be skilled to know to stab the beast, but Boris feared that he might hit Kamal if he aimed for the Y’owl. But when Kamal howled in pain, he knew he had to try. He attempted to take the beast’s head off, but he missed. He did, however, draw the creature’s attention to him. It turned on it’s large spindly legs, and began to slowly close in on Boris. He backed up as far as he could go, but only ran into a tree. He was too afraid to turn his back on the beast.

“Kamal!” He yelled in fear. The Y’owl raised its wings, and Boris shut his eyes tightly as it lunged forward. 

The blow never came though, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Kamal wrestling with the beast. The Y’owl roared and tried once more to peck out Kamal’s eyes. Kamal roared back, and began to roll with the beast in his grasp. There was a loud popping noise, before a jet of flame burst from the floor, and the Y’owl caught fire. Kamal was on his feet in an instant, and grabbed his sword from Boris’s grip. He stabbed the Y’owl in the heart, before turning to Boris again.

“We need to run,” he said.

“But your arm!”

“Now!”

Kamal didn’t wait for any more conversation. He sheathed his sword, and picked Boris up, bridal style. Boris yelped, but let himself be carried as Kamal raced through The Fire Swamp. He dodged around the jets of flame, and leaped over pits of snow sand. Boris glanced behind them, but saw no Y’owls chasing them. Still, there was no telling where they might be. After a while, Boris realized that Kamal was breathing quite heavily, and he saw that both of their clothes were stained with blood.

“Kamal!” He yelled. Kamal didn’t stop. “Kamal, please! You’re going to bleed out!”

Kamal finally stopped. He set Boris down and quickly went to lean against a tree. Boris was by his side in a second. He began to tear off the bottom of his dress, and shushed Kamal’s objections. He pressed the fabric to the wound, and Kamal held back a whimper of pain. They stood in silence, Boris doing his best to stop the bleeding. When it seemed to have stopped, or at least backed off, Boris took the fabric and wrapped it around the wound. He then leaned against the tree as well.

“Are you well?” Kamal asked between pants.

“As well as I possibly could be,” Boris replied. He knelt down and kissed Kamal gently. Kamal wrapped his uninjured arm around Boris’s neck. Boris carefully picked Kamal up, before pulling away. “Come on, we’ve got to keep moving. It’s my turn to carry you now.” Kamal smiled at him gently, and rest his head against Boris’s shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t be too much farther,” he said. “And then we’ll be free.”

“Free…” Boris whispered the word as if it were foreign to him. 

They walked for a little while, before they reached the edge of The Fire Swamp. Boris set Kamal down, and the two of them took each others’ hands. They began to walk towards the shore, so sure that freedom was within their grasp.

Until a pair of horses trotted out of the forest around them.

Kamal quickly drew his sword and made a shield between Boris and the horses. It was Martha and Martin, as well as a few of their men. But… not all the men they’d had before.

“Surrender,” Martha said.

“You wish to surrender to me?” Kamal asked. “Very well, I accept!”

“I won’t play these games with you,” Martha said. “Give up the prince, now.”

“Never!” Kamal yelled.

Boris glanced at the trees around them. Men with crossbows were stepping out and aiming at Kamal. Boris gasped and gripped Kamal’s hand tightly, but Kamal didn’t seem to take the hint.

“I won’t ask again!” Martha yelled. “Hand him over!”

“DEATH FIRST!” Kamal screamed back.

“Do you promise not to hurt him?!?” Boris yelled. All eyes snapped to him. “Do… do you promise not to hurt this man?”

“I give you my word,” Martha replied.

Kamal looked to Boris in disbelief. “What are you doing?” He asked softly.

“He is a sailor on the pirate ship Revenge,” Boris said. “Promise to return him to his ship safely. It’s docked nearby, he’ll show you where.”

“I’ll see that it’s done,” Martha replied. Boris turned to Kamal just as she turned to Martin. “Once we’re out of earshot, take him back to Erythron.”

“I’ll see that it’s done,” Martin replied, his voice thick with smugness.

“Boris, what are you doing?” Kamal hissed at Boris.

“Saving your life. Possibly saving both of ours,” Boris replied, his voice mechanically even.

“You’d rather live with your princess than die with your love?” Kamal asked, still bewildered.

“I can live without love.”

Dead silence fell between the two of them. Boris seemed to realize the gravity of his words, but made no attempt to take them back. He simply turned on his heel and mounted Martha’s horse behind her. She spurred the horse on, and the two of them rode off into the forest.

When Boris began to sob, Martha pretended not to notice.

Meanwhile, the men with crossbows had forced Kamal to drop his sword and had brought him in close to Martin’s horse. Martin grinned down at him, and Kamal gave him a witty smile back, despite the tears in his eyes.

“Come,” Martin said, “let’s get you back to your ship.”

“We are men of action,” Kamal said. “Lies do not become us.”

Martin grinned. “Yes… well, I think you’ll like your new home.” The words were said with a leer. Kamal looked Martin over to see if he could take the man down.

And noticed the six fingers on his right hand.

“Oh…” Kamal whispered to himself, before speaking louder, to Martin. “Someone’s looking for you.”

And then a strike to his head had him out cold.


	5. The Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have guessed by the name of this chapter and some of the tags on the fic, there's going to be some unsavory torture parts in this. I wanted to give a big shout out to RebccaMeyers12 for the amazing idea about how exactly to go about the torture. It's positively evil and I loved writing it >:3. I hope y'all enjoy!

Kamal came to in a large room. He looked around as best as he could from where he was strapped to the table he lay upon. The most important thing he saw was the person standing over him, and dabbing away the blood on his shoulder from the Y’owl attack. He squinted at them, but they just smiled back.

“Where am I?” He asked.

“The Pit of Despair,” the person replied.

“Cheery name, isn’t it?” Kamal asked, giving them a fake smile. He was trying to stay brave. “So… I assume I’m going to die here?”

The person nodded. “Oh yes. But first… it’s torture for you, my unfortunate friend.”

Kamal smirked. “I can handle that.”

The person just laughed. “Perhaps. But… no one can withstand Martha.”

“I’ve met her,” Kamal replied. “She’s hardly what I’d call pleasant, but she isn’t the worst person I’ve met.”

The person laughed again. “Oh no… not that Martha.”

“Who then?”

“You’ll see…”

In the dead of night, after Kamal awoke in The Pit of Despair, the king passed away. And by the next morning, Martha and Boris were wed. Unfortunately due to the circumstances, it was quick and unceremonious, but no less binding. When morning came, Martha stood in front of her citizens and-

_“Wait! Wait, hold on!”_

_The father looked over the book at his daughter, who had grabbed at his hands while he was reading. “Yes, my bloom?”_

_“You read that wrong! You had to have!” She said, clearly distressed. “Boris doesn’t marry Martha! He can’t!”_

_“I’m only reading what was written,” her father said._

_“No you’re not! You’re trying to trick me or something! C’mon Dad, just read how it’s supposed to go!” She said._

_“I am!” Her father insisted. “Perhaps… perhaps you are a little too worked up for this. You are sick after all, and you need your rest. Perhaps we should leave this for a different day.” He stood and shut the book._

_“Wait!” His daughter said. “I’ll… I’ll calm down. I trust you, you must be reading it how it’s written. Just… finish it? Please?”_

_Her father smiled gently at her and sat back down. “Alright. Now… let’s see…”_

When morning came, Martha stood in front of her citizens and introduced their new king.

“My father’s passing will forever be a painful memory to this kingdom,” she said, “but his reign will not be forgotten. His rule was the first in a long line that starved off war, and for that we are all grateful. And we hope our new king shall do the same for us! I introduce him to you now, my people! King Boris Habit!”

Boris stepped out of the castle, into the courtyard that was full of the citizens. He looked out over them as they began to bow. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Kamal. But he couldn’t have that… 

“Boo!” 

Boris jumped, and looked out into the citizens again.

“Boo!” An old woman was screaming. “Boo!”

“Why do you mock me so?” Boris asked.

“Because you gave up true love!” The woman yelled. “You had true love in your grasp, and you threw it out for gold!”

“If I hadn’t done that, Kamal would have been killed!” Boris said, his tone pleading.

“He had true love, and he threw it out!” The woman yelled, turning to the crowd. “True love saved him in The Fire Swamp, and he destroyed it! So bow down! Bow down if you’d like! To the King of Slime! To the King of Filth!” The woman turned back to Boris, and began to slowly back him up with her accusing glare. “Bow to the King of Garbage! Boo! Boo!”

Boris jerked awake, sweating and crying hysterically.

It was still a month to the wedding, and-

_“I knew it!” The daughter said triumphantly._

_Her father chuckled. “Yes, my dear, you’re very smart. Now please, be quiet, or we’ll never reach the end today.”_

It was still a month to the wedding, and poor Boris was having worse and worse nightmares. He had cried himself to sleep ever since he’d left Kamal behind, and he was starting to cry himself awake in the morning as well. He quickly threw a robe on and rushed down the hall to his mothers’ room. He knocked on the door in a special way they’re made. Three knocks, then two, then four. The door opened a moment later, and Jerafina gently led him in.

“What’s wrong, dear?” She asked as she sat in front of the fire. She was still in her nightgown, but Lulia was dressed.

Boris sat beside Jerafina, and began to rub at his eyes. “I’ve been foolish and selfish. I shouldn’t have let Kamal leave. I… I was wrong…”

“It’s about time, boy!” Jerafina said.

“Jerafina!” Lulia said, sounding horrified.

“I know, it’s harsh, but really Boris, it’s about time you realized,” Jerafina said. She gently put a hand on Boris’s shoulder as he began to sob again. “Boris, you’ve given up true love. But that doesn’t mean it’s gone! Kamal is still alive! He’s out there! You’ve just got to find him!”

Boris looked at her. “How am I to do that?” He asked.

“Well…” Lulia mused, “Martha knows that you don’t love her. And surely she knows you love Kamal by now. Perhaps… no, I fear she’s too cruel to help…”

“I won’t know until I try!” Boris said, suddenly motivated. He stood quickly, and kissed each of his mothers’ foreheads. “Thank you! I’ll talk to her immediately!”

Jerafina shook her head as he ran off down the hallway. “She’ll never help,” she said, turning to Lulia.

Lulia just smiled and came to sit beside her wife. “Well… you never know. True love does tend to sway people.”

Boris raced down the hallway. He cringed when he found himself in front of Martha’s bedroom door. He hated to think of being in there. He hated to think of that intimacy with her. He knocked anyhow, but he was extremely relieved to find that there was no response. He instead rushed to her study, and found her at her desk, going over some papers. He wasted no time walking to her desk, and demanding her attention.

“Please, call our wedding off,” he begged. Martha jumped in her seat, and opened her mouth, but Boris spoke before she could. “I’m truly in love with Kamal, and I couldn’t possibly marry someone else. I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.”

Martha sat silently for a moment, before sighed heavily. “Well… I couldn’t possibly hurt you. So… the wedding is off.” Boris staggered to a chair and sat in relief. “I’ll even help you find him again, if you’d like.”

“Really?” Boris asked.

Martha smiled and nodded. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” She asked. 

“Thank you Martha,” Boris said, more relieved than he’d ever been in his life. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Well… you can write four copies of a letter. And I will send my four fastest ships in each direction. If they find your love, blessings to you both. But…” Martha’s tone changed, and it filled Boris with fear. “Perhaps… if we can’t find him… then you would reconsider marrying me?”

“I’d sooner die,” Boris replied, defiant. He shrunk in upon himself a moment later though. “I… I mean…”

“Please consider me an alternative to suicide,” Martha said. She took his hand and kissed it, which made him shudder. “You’d best write those letters quickly. You wouldn’t want to wait too much longer. You never do know how far pirates may travel.”

“Yes… yes, of course,” Boris said. He quickly stood and raced off to his room. 

Martha quickly left her study, and went to find Martin. He was out in the courtyard, starting the preparations for the wedding. It may have been a month away, but a royal wedding was a big deal and took a lot of work. Still, Martin was bored, and gladly took the chance to get away from it all. He let Martha drag him aside, and his expression became practically giddy at what she said.

“Is he ready?” Martha whispered to him.

“He seems to be,” Martin replied. “He’s physically fit enough, and he’s been as annoying as possible, so I’d say he is mentally fit as well.”

Martha grinned wickedly. “Start him on Martha tonight,” she said. She chuckled and shook her head. “Did you have to name that thing after me?”

“I thought you and her shared a perfect smile,” Martin replied.

“Well… start him on it tonight.”

“Would you like to come watch?” Martin asked. Martha slumped slightly. “Oh dear. What’s wrong, my friend?”

“Well… you know, when I hired that man to kill Boris on the day we announced our engagement, I thought it would be awfully poetic. But… it’s going to be so much better when I slit his throat on our wedding night,” Martha explained. Martin nodded along, not at all shocked by her cruel words. “But… quite honestly? I’m exhausted! I’ve got a wedding to plan, a country to rule, my husband to kill and Quiktran to blame for it!” She threw her arms up in exasperation. “I’m swamped!”

Martin gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Get some rest,” he said. “If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”

Martha smiled. “Thank you.”

That night, Martin descended into The Pit of Despair. To get in, one had to press a small knot in a gnarly tree, and the trunk would open up in a door. There were stairs down to the floors, but each floor was treacherous. There was a small pedal at the base of each set of stairs that one could step on that would make all the beasts calm with a gas that Martha and Martin had designed themselves. Martin stepped on each pedal as he descended to the bottom, fifth, floor. He stepped onto the floor, and grinned widely at Kamal.

“Hello, my friend,” he said. 

Kamal returned his grin. “Hello yourself,” he replied, almost flirtily. 

“I have a simple question for you before we get started,” Martin said.

“By all means, ask away.”

“Have you ever thought about pain? At length, I mean,” Martin asked. Kamal shook his head as best as he could. “I thought not. It makes most people squirm in discomfort.”

“Understandably so,” Kamal said.

“Perhaps,” Martin replied. “Well, pain has always fascinated me. It seems that it is possible to break just about anyone. Even the toughest, even the cockiest, even the most annoying can be broken. In fact, they are always the most fun to break. So…” Martin turned to grin at Kamal. “I believe… that you will be the most fun victim I’ve ever had.”

“I’m honored,” Kamal said. “Now, what’s it to be? Whips? Chains? Perhaps even some gunshots?”

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” Martin replied. Kamal raised an eyebrow. “Physical pain is… it’s so boring! I dabbled in it a bit when I was younger, but it simply doesn’t excite me the way that emotional and mental pain do. They’re so much more… interesting…” Martin gestured to someone outside of Kamal’s vision.

The person who’d cleaned his wound from before, came out of the shadows, grunting with exertion at the laborious task they were undertaking. They were dragging a massive machine out of the darkness. It was on a flat cart with wheels, but the sheer size of it made moving it at all difficult. The machine looked like a large mouth, with ruby red lips and perfect teeth. The person wheeled it so that it was sitting to Kamal’s right, up against the wall.

“This,” Martin said, “is Martha. I spent eleven years building her, long before I met the princess. But I decided to name my little project after her. They hold one thing in common.”

“And what would that be?” Kamal asked. 

“Vicious cruelty.”

Kamal shuddered as Martin walked over to the large machine. He took a large clear tube from a compartment in one of the teeth, and quickly attached the loose end to a funny looking clear mask. “This goes over your nose and mouth,” Martin explained, “and when you begin to breath, a gas that I’ve designed pumps into your lungs. It causes a number of things, but the most prominent being laughter.”

“Sounds far from painful,” Kamal commented.

Martin grinned at him. “It’s simply a reflex that I was unable to edit out. The real effects are much darker. You will see things, things that aren’t real. Things that are painful. Your worst fears.” Martin pointed to a small column of numbers that stretched up the length of an upper and a lower tooth. “This is the measure of pain I am inflicting. I’ll start you at one, just to get started. I may one day go as high as five, but beyond that… I don’t know what it’ll do to you. Perhaps we’ll find out, perhaps we won’t.” He walked over to Kamal, and held the mask out to him. “Any more words before I start the process?”

“Are you going to ask me about what I see?” Kamal asked.

“Oh yes,” Martin replied. “I’m very excited to see what a pirate has to fear.”

And with that, Martin slipped the mask onto Kamal’s face.

As soon as Martin had begun to fiddle with the controls of the machine, Kamal smelled a strange something in the mask. It smelled like copper, almost similar to blood. He was used to the smell of blood, so it didn’t bother him too much. After a while, he began to feel lightheaded, and he heard himself laughing. He began to employ the tactic he had always used when in pain.

He thought of Boris. 

He simply removed his mind from what he was feeling and thought of Boris instead. It worked almost all the time. He feared greatly what his subconscious brain would create with Boris behind in it’s forefront.

“You were always a selfish boy!” Jerafina’s voice called to him. He saw both her and Lulia appear before him.

“We never should have taken you in!” Lulia yelled. It was the angriest he’d ever seen her. He reminded himself of Boris and decided to think of him instead. “You don’t get to think of him!”

“You broke his heart!” Jerafina yelled. “You don’t deserve him!”

“We never should have let you meet him, you don’t deserve our son,” Lulia hissed in anger. 

Kamal just concentrated on Boris’s face in his mind, and, slowly, the images of Lulia and Jerafina faded away. He felt the mask being removed, but still heard himself laughing. He was still lightheaded, and realized that the world around him seemed a bit altered. He could make out people’s bodies well enough, but their heads were odd. Martin’s head had been replaced with a six fingered glove. The other person appeared to be gone, and he found himself wondering what their head might be. He slowly began to calm down, and his laughter subsided. He was able to see clearly again a short while after that.

“Now that you’re with me again,” Martin said, “let’s go over what you saw.” He was sitting at a desk off in one corner of the room, with a quill and a journal. 

“Why should I tell you?” Kamal asked. “What’re you going to do with this information anyhow?”

“Well… you see, I’m documenting everything I can about pain. I hope to write the most prolific work on it to date. Possibly for all time,” Martin replied.

“Yes, and I can see exactly how that Botch boy would play into your book.” There was a long silence after that, and Kamal wasn’t sure if Martin was even still in the room.

“Just tell me what you saw,” Martin finally said, and Kamal grinned at the waver in his voice.

“Well… it was an old fear, a childish one. I saw Jerafina and Lulia yelling at me, calling me a bad child and wanting rid of me. Nothing too serious,” Kamal said.

“I see…” Martin replied, writing something down. “Well, I believe that will do for tonight. We’ll try again tomorrow, on a higher setting. You seem to have mastered this one already.” He turned to leave, and Kamal grinned at him as he left.

“Farewell, Six Fingered Man!” He called.

The next morning, up in the castle, Boris came into Martha’s study with four pieces of paper. Martha looked up right away, and gave him a kind smile.

“Are these your letters?” She asked.

“Yes,” Boris replied. “I’m afraid they aren’t the best… I never was properly educated. Aside from the three years under your father, but I’m afraid three years can only do so much…”

“That’s alright dearest,” Martha replied, ignoring the way Boris shuddered. “If you’d like, I could read over them?”

Boris hesitated for a moment, afraid to share something so personal with Martha, but agreed. Martha took the one off the top and read it over quickly.

“Deerst Kamal, I hop this ledder finds u well. I mad-e a big misteak. I shold not have left yu behind in th fir-e swamp. You r my one tru love, and eye should nevr hav left yu behind. I hop this ledder finds yu sun, becuse we do’nt hav-e much tim-e. My weding is sun and I need reskuing. Pleese cum quikly. Al my love, Boris.”

“Well… it’s legible,” Martha said. “The intent is there, and it’s very sweet. I’m sure that he’ll be able to get the point.” She took all four papers from Boris, and pat his shoulder gently. “I’ll have these sent off at once. Hopefully we can find your love before the wedding.”

Boris smiled gratefully at her, although he did step back when she tried to keep her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you Martha. This means the world to me.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll find him. I’m sure of it.” And with that, Martha walked off. 

Boris returned to his room, unaware of the fact that Martha hadn’t taken the letters to be sent off. She’d taken them to Martin, where the two of them had mocked him, and then thrown the letters in the fire. In his own mind, he was creating a little house on a farm for himself and Kamal.

That night, down in The Pit of Despair, Martin returned to the fifth floor. Martha still wasn’t with him, too busy planning the wedding. Kamal grinned at seeing him, still seemingly unperturbed. It made Martin angry, but he wouldn’t let it show. 

“How have you been today?” Martin asked. “Any residual effects of the gas?”

“None whatsoever!” Kamal replied chipperly. “Are we moving up a level tonight?” He asked.

“You know… perhaps we should move up two,” Martin replied.

“Fine by me,” Kamal replied, but a hint of nervousness found its way to his voice. 

“Alright then,” Martin said, “let’s get started, shall we?”

He slipped the mask onto Kamal’s face, and Kamal underwent the same lightheadedness. He heard himself laughing again, but what he saw this time was different. He saw himself standing on the deck of “The Revenge”. Except… no, he wasn’t standing, he was tied to the mast. Gillis was standing in front of him, swinging his sword violently.

“I should have known better than to trust you, boy,” he said. “You go sneaking through my things and find what you weren’t supposed to. You’ll pay for that with your life.” 

Kamal shut his eyes, but the visions did not stop. He heard the viscous laughter of Gillis’s crew, and saw his own blood seeping out of wounds. He shut his eyes tighter, and thought of Boris. Thought of the two of them on the farm where they’d grown up, thought of Jerafina and Lulia giving them their blessings, thought of when they had been reunited. He was able to distract himself with those thoughts until the visions disappeared.

When he came down from the laughing high, he realized that his body was completely unharmed. No wounds from the hallucination stayed, and for that he was grateful.

“You seemed a bit more distressed this time,” Martin said. “How was that? Tell me what you saw.”

“Well… your machine works beautifully,” Kamal said. “That one was a very genuine fear, much more recent.” He smiled shakily. “Still not enough to break me. Still a past fear.”

“What did you see?” Martin asked, sounding frustrated.

“My old captain torturing me. I was a little bit of a nuisance when I first started, I was always afraid of that punishment,” Kamal replied.

Martin was quiet for a long moment, first writing and then thinking. “Well… you did seem shaken. And torture is torture, even if I’m not the one doing it. We’ll keep you on level three for now.” He came up to Kamal, and grinned down at him. “You are very resilient. Perhaps you’ll be able to take level five. Hopefully better than my past test subjects have.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint,” Kamal said. “Farewell, Six Fingered Man.”

“Stop calling me that!” Martin called over his shoulder as he left.

Two weeks passed, the wedding getting ever closer. Boris sat up all night, waiting for some news from Kamal, while Kamal was slowly being tortured in The Pit of Despair. Whenever Boris would start to lose hope, he would think of Kamal holding him in The Fire Swamp. And when the torture got to be too much, Kamal would think of Boris and their time together as children. 

One week before the wedding, Martha called the captain of her guard into her study.

“Listen,” she whispered to him, “I’ve been tipped off that there is going to be an attack on my husband-to-be on our wedding night. I want the thieves' forest emptied by our wedding night.”

“That won’t be easy…” The captain replied. “There are going to be many who resist. They’ll overrun my forces.”

“Then assemble a brute squad!” Martha said, raising her voice slightly. She got quiet again when there were footsteps approaching her study. She was a hunter, she had already mastered everyone’s footsteps in her court, and she knew exactly who was coming. “Good morning, my sweet!” She said as Boris entered the room.

“Good morning,” Boris replied, shuddering at the pet name. “Any word from Kamal?”

“I’m afraid not… we still have a week darling, I’m sure we’ll hear from him soon!” Martha said, her voice full of fake chipperness.

Boris nodded. “He will come for me,” he said.

“I’m sure he will,” Martha replied kindly. Boris nodded, before turning and leaving the room. Martha grabbed the captain of her guard by the collar and pulled him close to her face. “Listen,” she hissed dangerously, “you will empty the thieves' forest before my wedding night, or there will be hell to pay.”

“Y-yes, your grace,” he replied. Martha let him go, and he scampered off.

Martha sighed and sat down heavily. “It’s so hard to get good help these days…” she muttered to herself. 

That night, Martha paid her first visit to The Pit of Despair since it had gotten it’s newest member. She didn’t say anything as Martin hooked Kamal up to Martha (and wasn’t that confusing), and Kamal didn’t say anything to her either. They simply stared at each other with venom in their gazes. 

“Now,” Martin said, seemingly more upbeat than he had been before, “we’re going to start you on level five tonight. I am very excited to see what this might do, considering how well you’ve taken all the other levels. I’ve only tested this level on a human once before and… well… let’s just say that no one in the court misses him.”

“I’m excited,” Kamal said, thoroughly unamused.

Martin turned on the machine, and Kamal felt the lightheadedness again. He heard himself begin to laugh, and it was much more hysterical and violent than before. He immediately thought of Boris to try and distract himself from whatever he would see.

That would be his undoing.

“What makes you think you have the right to return to me?” The vision of Boris asked, his voice cold and dangerous. “You have done nothing but hurt me for the past five years, and you think that you can just waltz back into my life and expect forgiveness?”

“Wait!” Kamal yelled, or at least tried to. “I’m sorry!”

“No! You don’t get to apologize! You hurt me…. I died without you…” The Boris in Kamal’s visions began to sob loudly. Kamal tried to reach for him, but it was useless. “I’ve had to find another to love. I’ve moved beyond you. I don’t need you anymore.” Kamal tried desperately to reach for his love. “Then why?” The vision of Boris asked as tears began to fall again. “Why do I miss you? Why do I need you? I died because of you, and yet I can’t quit you. I… I’ll have to truly die this way.” Kamal screamed. “Goodbye Kamal.”

The vision faded away, and Kamal was left a screaming, laughing, crying fool.

Martha turned to Martin with a grin. “Keep him on this level. I think this is going to work well for us,” she said, before turning to leave.

For the next week, there were raids upon the thieves’ forest, Boris paced listlessly in his room, and Kamal spent his night screaming and laughing and crying. 

The night before the wedding, Boris went to Martha’s study again, but found a meeting already underway.

“The forest is empty,” the captain of Martha’s guard was reporting to her. “No thieves remain.”

“Excellent,” Martha said. “I want fifty guards at the gate, and I want it locked as tight as possible.”

“You needn't worry, your grace,” the captain of the guard said. “There’s only one key. And I keep it on me always.” He held up the key, which was tied around his neck on a simple cord. 

Martha grinned. “Good man.” Boris cleared his throat and stepped into the room. “Ah! Darling! Only one more day until our wedding! Aren’t you excited?”

“Any word?” Boris asked. 

Martha frowned. “I’m afraid not… but you needn’t worry! I am here, I shall be the perfect wife for you.” She took Boris’s hands, and he let her, no matter how sick it made him feel. “The day after our wedding, there will be massive parties, and all the ships in my navy will accompany us to our honeymoon!”

“All but your four fastest,” Boris said. 

Martha stared blankly for a moment, before she smiled nervously. “Yes! Yes, of course! Not those four, no.” 

The captain of the guard cleared his throat. “I’ll uh… I’ll just be going then…” he said.

“Yes,” Boris said, “I think that would be wise.” The captain of the guard ran off, and Boris jerked his hands away from Martha. “You didn’t send your ships.”

“Well… no… but…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Boris said over Martha’s stammering. He began to back her into a corner. “Because what Kamal and I have is special. We have true love! I bet you’ve never loved before! Not even your parents! You’re so lucky Martha! You have wonderful parents, and you could have anyone in the kingdom you please! And yet you chose me, a man so riddled with grief and debt that I had no choice but to say yes! I do not love you, and I never will!” Martha was pressed tightly into a corner, and Boris was practically yelling at her now. “I love Kamal, and he loves me! And you cannot break that bond with distance, or force, or persuasion! I will never marry you, because Kamal will come to my rescue!”

“ENOUGH!” Martha screamed. Boris immediately backed down, suddenly very frightened. Martha gripped his arm tightly, and dragged him back to his room. She shoved him in and locked the door tightly. 

“He’ll come…” Boris whispered as he began to sob. “Kamal will come, and the two of us will be happy.”

Meanwhile, Martha had run down to The Pit of Despair and straight to where Kamal was being tortured. Martin hadn’t started Martha (the machine, not the human) yet, but Kamal was hooked up to it. Martha (the human) leaned in close to Kamal’s face, and whispered to him with intense cruelty. 

“You truly love each other,” she said, “so you might have been truly happy. But I will have my husband, and I will see his death.” Kamla gasped, but Martha didn’t stop. “You’ll have to pay for every ounce of suffering that idiot has caused me.” 

And she turned the machine on to fifty.

“No!” Martin screamed, rushing to try and stop her. But it was too late.

Kamal skipped the feeling of lightheadedness, straight into screaming with laughter and seeing the most violent and upsetting thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re a monster!” Boris screamed. He began to stab into Kamal’s chest, and Kamal screamed from pain that wasn’t really there. “You left me to die! You killed me! And now I shall do the same to you!” The Boris in Kamal’s visions continued to scream violent things at him, as he cut his heart out. Kamal screamed and laughed and cried, until, quite suddenly, he went perfectly still.

Any physical harm in the hallucinations did not reach him, but the amount of gas he’d inhaled over the past weeks mixed with the insane amount of the past fifteen minutes resulted in the same end.

Kamal was dead.


	6. The Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD IT'S BEEN AN AGE! Three months since I updated this fic! I wish I had an excuse better than "burn out" but that's really all I've got. But! I'm not giving up on this baby! Only one (maybe two) more chapters to go now! I've also decided to get a little fast and lose with the Princess Bride plot line. My house, my rules! Also, if any of you try to be gross about Marv and Millie in this, I will go for the kneecaps. But! I hope you enjoy! And I'm glad to be back to this fic!

While the kingdom had been preparing for a wedding, and Kamal was being tortured, a lonely Spaniard was trying to drink away his pain.

Parsley had spent years training to become the best at his craft, and being beaten had hurt him more than he thought he could be hurt after what had happened all those years ago. He returned to the Thieves Forest, the place that the three of them had gotten their job. In moments of lapse or failure, The Man requested that they all return to “the beginning”. And this was certainly it.

Parsley waited for a month, but no one came. He began to drink again, and drink heavily. He needed to wash away his pain and shame at being defeated. He needed to forget about The Six Fingered Man for a while. He needed to drink, he had convinced himself of that. He did not stop drinking, not even on the day before the wedding. 

He was exiting the bar he’d been spending most of his days in, only to find people running and screaming. He looked down the street and saw a large caravan with many criminals already inside, their wrists and feet bound. Parsley was drunk, but sober enough to know that someone (most likely the princess) had ordered for the forest to be emptied. He quickly drew his sword, ready to fight despite the fact he could barely stand up straight.

“You there!” One man yelled, hopping off the side of the caravan and making his way over to Parsley. “Are you going to come quietly, or are we going to have to drag you?”

“I am… not going anywhere…” Parsley slurred. “I’m waiting… for The Man.” He swallowed. “I’m waiting for Borbra.”

The man sighed and quickly pulled out a club. “Alright, I see we’re doing this the hard way…” But before he could strike Parsley, someone much larger came from around the corner behind him. “Brute!” The man said. “Help me with this one, will you?”

“No brute can stop me!” Parsley screamed. He tried to turn to face the brute, but found that he was too disoriented.

“About that, we’ll see,” a familiar voice said.

“I’m going to see Borbra again!” Parsley yelled, for all he could think of at the moment was his coworker.

“She’s closer than you think, my friend,” the brute said. They carefully rest a hand on Parsley’s back and he leaned against them. He looked up and found Borbra standing behind him, a teary grin on her face.

“It’s you!” Parsley said.

“True!” Borbra replied. 

Borbra quickly knocked the other man unconscious, and scooped Parsley up. She carried him, very carefully, to a part of the forest that had already been cleared. There was a small hut there, and Borbra quickly brought Parsley inside. She nursed him back to health as quickly as she could, dunking his face into cold water in an attempt to sober him.

“Enough!” Parsley finally yelled, jerking away from her. “I’m sober! Enough to get by, anyhow!”

Borbra chuckled. “Then I think you’ll want to hear of something I discovered.”

“And what would that be?” Parsley crossed his arms and tried to look disgruntled. Borbra thought he just looked like a wet rat.

“Well, when I came looking for you, I spotted the princess and her party came through,” she said. “And the princess’s right hand man had something very familiar and interesting about him…”

“Don’t toy with me Borbra, I’ve had a very tiring month,” Parsley said.

“Six fingers on his right hand.”

The hut went deadly silent.

After a moment of standing, completely shocked, Parsley took a deep breath and made for the door. “Where are you going?”

“I am no man for plans,” Parsley said, “but I need one. And I refuse to go back to that man, he was cruel and horrible. But… The Man In Black… he was a master! If I can find him, he can get me into the castle and I can give The Six Fingered Man a taste of his own medicine!” Parsley turned to Borbra with an unhinged grin. “There will be blood tonight!”

Borbra hurried to catch up with him as he made his way out of the forest and towards a small village outside of the castle grounds. People were rushing around, trying to prepare for the wedding. As the two of them pushed against the crowd, they suddenly heard a loud sound. A mix between screaming and laughter, and it echoed across the whole kingdom.

“There,” Parsley said, “that’s The Man In Black! We have to follow that sound!” He began to shove at people to try and get through the crowd, but to no avail. “Borbra?”

“EVERYBODY MOVE!” Borbra yelled in her booming voice. The crowd parted, a few people yelping in fear. “Ah, sorry!” She added, much quieter.

“Thank you,” Parsley mumbled, before racing through the village towards castle grounds.

The two of them quickly made it to the grove of trees that grew behind the castle. Parsley spotted someone wandering around a clearing, and silently pointed to them. Borbra nodded, and approached as quietly as she could. She hit him over the head, and he collapsed.

“Oh,” Parsley said. “I had planned to interrogate him.”

“Oh,” Borbra replied. “Sorry… I’m just so used to…”

“No worries, my friend,” Parsley said, coming over to pat her arm. “But… I think that we won’t have to worry about hurting anyone, yes?”

“Breaking into the castle will probably require that…” Borbra muttered.

“Then I’ll do it. You’ve done enough hurting against your will,” Parsley said. 

Borbra smiled, a little tearful, before turning back to the man on the ground. “What now?” She asked. “How are we going to find where they’re keeping The Man In Black?”

Parsley took a deep breath. “I don’t judge you, so I’m going to ask that you don’t judge me,” he mumbled.

“I’ll try,” Borbra replied.

Parsley stepped forward into the clearing and drew his sword. He knelt on one knee and held his sword out. “Father,” he mumbled, “I need your help. To get vengeance for your soul, I need to find a man. I don’t know where he is… I need you to guide my sword.”

Borbra stared, completely shocked, as Parsley carefully stood. He wobbled slightly as he walked forward, and she almost reached out to keep him from collapsing. She stepped forward when he teetered towards a tree, but his sword his it before he did. He opened his eyes to look at the knot that his sword had hit. Nothing happened. He sighed and slumped against the tree, pressing against another knot. A small door swung inward on the tree.

Parsley and Borbra glanced at each other, before they slowly descended into The Pit of Despair. 

They raced through the first four floors, down as far as they could go, and opened the door to the final floor. A large, grinning machine was sitting in the back, and in front of that was a table with a body lying on it. They carefully approached, and Borbra gasped when she realized who it was.

“He’s dead…” she mumbled.

“He is…” Parsley replied. He carefully went forward to listen for The Man in Black’s heartbeat, but heard nothing.

_“Wait a minute!” The daughter shouted. Her father jumped. “You weren’t kidding?”_

_“Why would I joke about this?” Her father asked. “You seem rather invested, I would hate to lie to you about this.”_

_“So… so Kamal’s really dead?” She asked. “He’s not faking?”_

_“You always fuss at me about asking questions when we’re watching movies,” her father said. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice.” His daughter grumbled, and he chuckled. “You’ll see, my bloom.”_

“Well… there’s only one thing to do,” Parsley said, standing up. “Grab the body Borbra. We need a miracle.” Borbra made a confused noise, but grabbed The Man in Black’s body and followed after Parsley.

The two of them made their way to the edge of The Thieves Forest. There was a small house that still had smoke curling out of the chimney. The Miracle Man who lived there had been allowed to stay, because he had once tried to help the king in his illness. He’d failed, and had been banished to The Thieves Forest. Still, he was allowed to stay, because he was too old to cause any trouble on the wedding night. 

Parsley marched up to the front door and slammed his palm against it. A small hatch in the front opened and a pair of eyes peeked out.

“What do you kids want now?” A voice asked. “We’re closed.”

“Sir, we need a miracle,” Parsley said. 

“Hmm… the princess said I wasn’t allowed to do them anymore… so I’m afraid I can’t be of any help.” The slot in the door shut. Parsley huffed, and slammed his palm against the door again. The slot opened again. “Listen, sonny, I can’t help you. If you don’t leave soon, I’ll have to call the brute squad.”

“I’m on the brute squad!” Borbra said.

“You are the brute squad,” the man commented.

“Hey!” Both Parsley and Borbra protested.

“Listen, I’m only able to do shoddy miracles. If you want me to do anything, I’ll probably end up killing the guy you want to miracle!” The man said.

“He’s already dead,” Parsley said. Borbra held up the body to prove the point.

“Oh. In that case, I’ll see what I can do.” The man opened the door, and gestured for the two of them to come in. He was short, and had a long white beard. “Set him there.” He gestured to a table in the middle of the room.

“You really are Miracle Marv,” Borbra said as she set the body down. “I heard that you’re the best Miracle Man in the world!”

“Aw, you flatter me!” Marv said. He waved her off. “Well, I wasn’t good enough for the princess, so I’m afraid you heard wrong.”

“Can you fix him?” Parsley asked. 

Marv tutted. “So forward!” He turned to Borbra. “Your boyfriend there has no patience.”

“I’m gay!” Both Parsley and Borbra said at the same time. They turned to each other in shock, before Parsley shook his head. “Unimportant. Can you fix him?” He repeated.

Marv didn’t reply, but he did press down on the body’s chest. He listened for a heartbeat, and checked the body’s wrist. He let the arm fall loosely to the table again, before he nodded. 

“Yup. Looks pretty dead to me,” he said. “But! I’d be wrong!” Parsley and Borbra shared a confused glance. “He’s only mostly dead!” Marv said, as if that explained anything. “Now… what do you need this man for? Cuz if he just owes you money, I’ll be right put out.”

“His family is dying,” Parsley said. “His wife… she is sick. His children have no food, and are slowly decaying. They live in poverty, and the princess has been most cruel to them.”

Marv looked unamused. “You’re a terrible liar,” he said, making Borbra giggle.

“I need his help to avenge my father,” Parsley said, leaning closer. “Can you do that, little man?”

“Touchy!” Marv said. “Well… I’m afraid I can’t, sonny. Holding onto that isn’t very healthy. There’s other ways to deal with the loss of a family member. There’s this good therapist I know in the next kingdom over who-”

“You said the princess fired you, right?” Parsley asked. “This man is the princess’s worst enemy! If you bring him back, he’ll run her through and you’ll never have to deal with her again!”

“I’m not interested in revenge,” Marv said. “Like I said, much healthier things! Now, I think it’s best if you-”

“Do it!” A shrill voice shrieked from the back of the house. All three living people in the room jumped as a small girl with bright red hair ran into the room. “Do it! You’ve gotta do it!”

“Millie!” Marv yelled. “What’re you doing? You’re still grounded!”

“I’m your apprentice, not your daughter! You can’t ground me!” Millie shrieked. “You’ve gotta do it! I wanna see the princess suffer! She’s a total jerk, I hate her guts!” She rounded on Parsley, who already looked very afraid. “You’ll get rid of her, right? If we bring this guy back, you will, right? I’ll pay you!”

“Enough!” Marv yelled. “You know I don’t bring back the dead unless it’s for something noble!”

“Like true love?” Borbra asked, surprisingly calm. All eyes turned to her. “I… I overheard a rumor at the castle when I was being hired. They say that this man is the prince’s true love. If we bring him back, Millie can have her revenge, and it’ll be for a noble cause.”

“Yes!” Parsley shouted. “You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Marv grinned. “Absolutely! I’ll ever do it for free!”

“Yes!” Millie shouted. “I’ll go get the stuff!”

For about half an hour, the two Miracle… People set about making a remedy. Parsley and Borbra were sent out of the house at various points, told that they’d only get in the way. Parsley paced around in front of the door, and Borbra tried to get him to rhyme with her. She hadn’t had anyone to rhyme with in months. But Parsley was too focused on his revenge. Borbra knew he got like this sometimes, and decided to let it go.

After a long while, Marv called them back in. He was brushing a brown liquid over something that looked to be the size of a walnut. “Chocolate coating,” Millie explained. “Makes it go down easier.”

“It’s a miracle pill, then?” Parsley asked.

“Yup!” Marv replied. “Should do your friend up nicely! But it’ll take a while to kick in. And you shouldn’t go swimming for…”

“An hour?” Millie suggested. 

“That sounds right!” Marv said.

“Thank you,” Parsley said. “Thank you so much!” He quickly took the pill and raced off towards the castle. Borbra was hot on his heels, after picking up the body, of course.

“Bye bye!” Marv called, waving from the doorway. “Have fun storming the castle!”

“You think they’ll actually do it?” Millia asked.

“Not a chance,” Marv replied.

* * *

Parsley and Borbra carefully climbed up the wall outside the castle. They peeked over the edge of it. “Fifty guards…” Parsley mumbled. “I could fend off about five at most, and you could take… about ten.”

“You said I wouldn’t have to hurt anyone!” Borbra said.

“Right! Right, my apologies,” Parsley replied. “Then… The Man in Black better have a plan. A good one too.”

“We should probably give him the pill. So he can tell us any plans he has,” Borbra said.

“Right,” Parsley mumbled. He held the pill out and carefully put it to the body’s lips. Borbra held its mouth open, and together they forced the pill down its throat. “Do you think it will work?” Parsley asked after a moment.

The body’s head jerked up. “What’s going on?” It asked. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“I guess it does,” Borbra said. 

“Are we enemies?” The Man in Black asked. He sat for a moment. “Why can’t I move? Aren’t you the ones who kidnapped Boris?”

“Okay, let me explain,” Parsley said. He thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Too much. Let me sum up. Your true love is inside that castle, about to marry the princess. We need to get inside so that I can kill the Six Fingered Man.” Borbra cleared her throat. “Oh. And so you can get your true love back.”

“How many men are at the gates?” The Man in Black asked. Borbra carefully held his head up over the side of the wall so he could look. “Way to many of them,” The Man in Black said with a small sigh. “If only we had a wheelbarrow.”

“Borbra, didn’t the man in the clearing have one of those?” Parsley asked. 

“Well I doubt you have a flame resistant cloak,” The Man in Black said.

“I do!” Borbra said. She pulled it from the pouch around her waist.

“Where’d you get that?” Parsley asked.

“Marv gave it to me,” she said. “It was too big for him, but it fit me just fine!”

“Well… that’s a lucky turn of events,” The Man in Black said. He tapped his finger against his shoulder in thought.

“You moved your finger!” Borbra said. “That’s excellent!”

The Man in Black smiled up at her. “You seem like a wonderful woman,” he said. “Hopefully you’ll survive this all.”

“Hopefully we all will,” Parsley said. 

The Man in Black turned his head to face Parsley (earning a small “Good job!” from Borbra). “How rude of me,” he said. “I’ve completely forgotten your name! I know you told me on those cliffs… but I’ve had a very hard few months. Especially the last twenty-four hours.”

“No worries, my friend,” Parsley said. “Parsley Botch. And I need to avenge my father.”

“I’m Borbra.”

“Kamal. It's a pleasure to meet you both. Now… we’ve got to get going if we’re ever going to do this.”

Borbra and Parsley began to slowly carry Kamal along the wall. “Parsley?” Borbra said quietly.

“Yes?”

“I hope we win.”


	7. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE DID IT!!!! IT'S OVER! 
> 
> It's been a long journey, but it's all been worth it! This fic has been a pleasure from start to finish! I hope the ending is worth it! I've been writing for hours now and I've got the worst headache and I want to collapse, so I'm gonna post this and get it over with, but thank you all for following along! Thank you for the support! I hope you like this!

Inside the castle, Martha was helping Boris prepare for the wedding. There was only about fifteen minutes or so left before the ceremony, but Boris’s mind hadn’t swayed from Kamal, or from rescue.

“Aren’t you excited?” Martha asked as she helped him claspe a necklace around his neck.

“Why would I be?” Boris asked.

“I’m told grooms usually are,” Martha said.

“I’m no groom,” Boris said. “Kamal will come for me. You’ll see.” He turned back to the mirror to fix his hair, and missed Martha’s smirk.

Meanwhile, outside the castle gates, Parsley was struggling a fair bit.

“Do you think you could speed this up?” Kamal asked. “I’d hate to be late.”

“I'm carrying you on my back,” Parsley reminded him, “and pushing Borbra on this wheelbarrow. I’d like to see you try it!”

“Normally I could but… alas, still no movement in my arms,” Kamal reminded him.

“You’re sure this will work?” Borbra asked.

“Let's hope so,” Kamal replied. “Do you remember your lines?”

“I think so,” she replied.

“Then let’s do it!” Kamal said.

Parsley wheeled Borbra forward so she was slowly approaching the guards at the gate. Draped in the long flame resistance cloak, she looked quite frightening in the dying sunlight. The men at the gate began to shout and draw their swords. 

“I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!” Borbra yelled. “I take no prisoners!”

“Stand your ground!” The captain of the guard yelled.

“Now?” Parsley grunted.

“Not yet,” Kamal said.

“You have no time to beg for your lives!” Borbra yelled. “Surrender to me!”

“Hold your ground!” The captain roared again. But a few men had already begun to run.

“Now?” Parsley asked again.

“Light her,” Kamal replied.

Parsley grabbed the candle out of the lantern they were carting with them, and lit the flame resistant cloak. It was slow to spread, but spread it did. Soon, Borbra was completely aflame, although she was perfectly safe.

“The Dread Pirate Roberts has come for your souls!” She bellowed.

All at once, the men began to run away, leaving just the captain of the guard. He rushed towards the gates and tried to close the portcullis. Borbra hopped out of the wheelbarrow and quickly gripped it and raised it again. Parsley dragged Kamal over to the gate, and the three of them flanked the captain of the guard.

“Give us the gate key,” Parsley said.

“What gate key?” The captain asked.

“Borbra, tear his arms off,” Parsley said. 

“Oh, you mean this gate key?” The captain said, retrieving it from around his neck. He held it out to Parsley, who took it, and then watched as the captain ran off.

“You said-”

“I was intimidating him,” Parsley said, cutting Borbra off. “You won’t have to hurt anyone. I promise you.”

“Can we please hurry?” Kamal asked. Parsley and Borbra jumped, and Borbra quickly opened the gate.

Meanwhile, in the castle, the wedding was underway. However, everyone could hear the commotion outside. Martha nodded to Martin, and he gestured for a small group of men to follow him. He exited towards the main hallways.

“Father, I do so hate to be rude,” Martha spoke up, interrupting the priest who was officiating, “but I’m so overcome with love that I fear we must move forward faster.”

“Alright…” the priest said. 

And so the wedding picked up in pace.

Martin and the small group of men raced through the castle toward the commotion. Parsley, Kamal, and Borbra had been sneaking their way through the halls, peeking around corners and moving forward carefully. They had just rounded a corner when Martin and his men came barreling down the hall. Martin stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Parsley, but his men rushed forward. Parsley quickly drew his sword and ran each man through. When all their bodies were on the ground, he swallowed thickly and held his sword up to Martin.

“Hello,” he said, “my name is Parsley Botch. You killed my father, broke my heart, and betrayed my soul. Prepare to die.”

Martin stared for a moment…

Before he turned and ran. 

Parsley stood in shock for a moment, before he raced after him. Borbra and Kamal both called after him, but he ignored them. He followed behind Martin as best as he could, slamming into walls in attempts to make sharp corners. Martin slammed a door closed behind him and locked it, before scurrying down the stairs behind it. Parsley attempted to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He began to throw his body against it, just like he had thrown his weight against the wall of rocks in that cave years ago. Just like the rocks, the door would not budge.

“BORBRA!” Parsley screamed. “BORBRA, I NEED YOUR HELP!”

“I can’t just leave Kamal!” Borbra yelled back from where she had tried to follow the two men.

“BORBRA! PLEASE!”

Borbra sighed and carefully propped Kamal against a suit of armor. When he began to fall anyway, she took his arms and wrapped them around the chest of the suit. Kamal stayed that way. He gave Borbra an unamused look. “He’s been chasing this for twenty years,” Borbra said. “I can’t not help him.”

“Please hurry,” Kamal replied.

Borbra followed Parsley’s voice to where he was slamming against the door. She grabbed him by the collar and punched the door in.

“Thank you,” Parsley mumbled, before racing down the stairs, two at a time. Borbra sighed and turned to go back to Kamal.

Completely missing the man who snuck in after Parsley.

The door being burst inward could be heard from the large room the wedding was taking place in. Boris shared an excited look with his mothers, before turning to Martha with a smug smile.

“That’s my Kamal now,” he said. “You’ll see. This wedding won’t finish.”

Martha growled. “‘Your’ Kamal is dead,” she said. “I killed him myself.”

Boris faltered for a moment, before he puffed his chest. “He’s coming,” he said. “I know he is.”

Borbra returned to where she’d left Kamal, only to find the suit of armor without a man leaning against it. She sighed and looked around. She almost realized she was on her own, when she heard dainty footprints coming from one of the corners. She turned quickly, and then gasped at who she saw.

“It’s you!” She said.

All the while, Parsley was chasing Martin through the castle, over loads of food in the pantry, down staircases, through corridors. He lost sight of Martin on one spiral staircase, and when he raced to the bottom, there was suddenly a searing pain in his stomach. He gasped and pulled out the dagger that Martin had thrown into him, and leaned heavily against the wall.

“Parsley,” Martin said, out of breath. “You… oh, you idiot. You really came after me?” Martin chuckled and drew his sword. “You always were foolish. And the worst part is, your father was alive when you arrived at the house.” Parsley gasped again and tried to stand. “I drug him to the woods and left him to die. I imagine the wolves got him. It’s a shame you never could nurse him back to health.” Martin made his way over to Parsley. “And now… it’s time for a son to follow his father.”

Martin lunged forward and stabbed at Parsley, but it was deflected by Parsley’s own sword. It missed his heart, but not his shoulder, which began to bleed as well. Martin stepped back, surprised, before lunging again. Parsley blocked in the other direction, and that shoulder began to bleed as well.

“Hello,” Parsley said weakly, “my name is Parsley Botch.” He took a staggering step forward. “You killed my father.” Another step. “Broke my heart.” A small slice that missed the mark. “And betrayed my soul.” A slice that hit enough for Martin to have to block. “Prepare to die.”

“Stay down you fool,” Martin growled.

Parsley would do no such thing.

“Hello,” he said louder. He made another, more aggressive swing that Martin had to block. “My name is Parsley Botch. You killed my father, broke my heart, and betrayed my soul.” A lunge this time, one Martin had to jump away from. “Prepare to die.”

“Stop saying that!” Martin yelled.

“HELLO!” Parsley screamed as he began a series of quick slices at Martin’s chest. Martin managed to block them all, but just barely. “My name is Parsley Botch! You killed my father, broke my heart, and betrayed my soul! Prepare to die!”

Parsley knicked Martin’s wrist, making him drop his sword. He moved forward and cut Martin’s left cheek.

“Offer me everything I want,” he said.

“Anything,” Martin replied.

“Money? Power?” Parsley sliced Martin’s other cheek.

“As much as you could possibly imagine,” Martin said. “Anything you want.”

“I want my father back, you son of a bitch,” Parsley growled.

He moved to stab Martin, but left himself open. Martin kicked him in the chest, retrieved his sword, and knocked Parsley to the ground. He held his sword at Parsley’s neck. “I should have done this years ago,” he said. “Goodbye Pars-”

He never finished.

A sword shoved itself all the way through his chest, and he fell to the ground, dead.

“Kamal?” Parsley asked, looking up at his savior.

“Parsley,” a familiar voice rasped. “Oh god, Parsley. You’re alive… You’re alive!”

Jimothan Botch knelt on the ground and quickly helped his son to his feet. Parsley just stared at him for a long moment. “I’m dead,” he whispered. “I’ve gone to heaven.”

“No!” Jimothan said. “No, son, you’re here! You’re alive, and so am I!” Jimothan laughed and held Parsley close despite the blood. He pressed quick kisses to his son’s cheeks. “A French woman found me in those woods. She nursed me back to health. The two of us have been looking for you ever since.”

“This is real?” Parsley asked. “You’re here? You’re alive?”

“Yes,” Jimothan said with a sob. “I’m here. I love you Parsley.”

“I love you too,” Parsley whispered. “We’ve… we’ve got to find the others. Kamal will need help to save his true love. Borbra… I’ve got to help Borbra. She can’t be alone, I’ve got to find her.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Jimothan said. He propped Parsley up, and the two of them carefully made their way through the castle’s hallways.

The screaming from the sword fight did not go unnoticed at the wedding. Martha glared at Boris, and then at the priest.

“I want this wedding over, now!” She demanded. The priest jumped. “Skip to the end!”

“Do you, Princess Martha, take this man-”

“Yes, sure, of course,” Martha said.

“And do you, Boris Habit-”

“Say ‘man and wife’!” Martha demanded when a particularly harsh yell carried through the walls. 

“Man and wife,” the bewildered priest said. 

Martha quickly shoved Boris towards his mothers. “Take him to the honeymoon suite and then get yourselves to bed,” she said. She pressed her finger into Boris’s chest. “I’ll return to deal with you shortly,” she hissed, before racing off.

“He didn’t come,” Boris whispered, his voice hollow. Jerafina carefully took him by the arm, and began to lead him to the honeymoon suite. “He really didn’t come…”

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” Lulia said. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Boris said. “I won’t live to see tomorrow.”

“What?!?” Both his mothers yelped. 

But Boris was already racing to the honeymoon suite. He heard their footsteps behind him, but he was too fast. His tears blurred his vision, but he made it to the door and locked it. He quickly approached the desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out one of Martha’s hunting daggers. He held it in his hands for a moment, before pressing it to his chest and taking a deep breath.

“There is a shortage of perfect hearts in the world,” a voice said from behind him. “It would be a shame to damage yours.”

Boris gasped and whirled around. Kamal was lying on the bed, smiling as brightly as he could. Boris dropped the dagger to the floor, and rushed to Kamal. He climbed into the bed, and began to kiss all over Kamal’s face.

“Oh, Kamal… why won’t you hold me?” He asked.

“Gently,” Kamal said.

“That’s all you can think to say?” Boris asked. He lifted Kamal’s head to kiss him properly.

“Gently!” Kamal warned against his lips. When Boris let his head go, it hit the headboard, and Kamal hissed in pain.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Boris said. “I… I’m sorry Kamal, I got married. It all happened so fast…”

“Did you say ‘I do’?” Kamal asked.

“Well… no. We sort of skipped that part.”

“Then you aren’t married,” Kamal stated. “If you didn’t say it, you didn’t do it.” Boris laughed with joy and kissed him again.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Martha stepped inside, and Jerafina and Lulia fell to the sides of her, battered and bruised. Boris gasped and stood quickly, but Martha drew her sword. “Stand up and face me like a man,” she said to Kamal. “To the death.”

“No!” Kamal objected. “To the pain.”

Martha stopped. “I don’t quite think I understand,” she said.

“Then I’ll explain it,” Kamal said, “and I’ll use small words so you’ll be sure to understand.”

“I beg your pardon!” Martha said.

“Then beg,” Kamal replied. 

“I do not beg!” Martha roared. “What do you mean, ‘to the pain’?”

“To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet, below the ankle,” Kamal said. “Then your hands at the wrists. Then your nose.”

“And I suppose my tongue is next?” Martha asked.

“No. Your left eye, followed by your right,” Kamal said.

“And then my ears, I’d expect!” Martha shouted.

“NO!” Kamal yelled. “Your ears you’ll keep, and I’ll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out 'dear god, what is that thing' will echo in your perfect ears. That is what 'to the pain' means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.”

Martha was looking quite frightened now. “I… I think you’re bluffing,” she stammered.

“I might be,” Kamal said. “Are you really going to take the chance?” He stood slowly, and raised his sword. “Drop. Your. Sword.”

Martha’s sword hit the ground with a clatter. Boris quickly lurched forward and hit her over the head. She collapsed, unconscious. Kamal stared at Boris in awe.

“You aren’t the only one who’s become strong,” Boris said. He then rushed to Jerafina and Lulia’s sides. “Mothers, are you alright? What did she do to you?”

“We’re fine,” Jerafina groaned. She quickly stood and helped Lulia stand as well. “You were very brave, dear. You both were.”

“Oh, boys… we couldn’t be more proud of you,” Lulia said. She went to embrace Kamal, and he collapsed against her. “Oh!”

“He doesn’t have the strength to stand,” a voice said from the doorway. The four conscious people in the room turned to face it. Parsley and Jimothan were standing there, and Parsley spoke again. “He’s been mostly dead all day.”

“Didn’t you kidnap me?” Boris asked.

“Water under the bridge,” Kamal said. Boris glared at him, but relented. “Who’s this?” Kamal indicated Jimothan with his sword.

“My father,” Parsley replied, sounding more relieved than anyone in the world ever had before.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Jimothan said.

“Well… now what?” Boris asked.

“The king and queen have been speaking with us,” Jerafina said. “They think it’s about time someone with common sense took the throne.”

“I’m not doing that!” Boris shrieked.

“She meant the two of us,” Lulia clarified.

“Really?” Kamal asked.

“Will you be happy with that?” Boris asked.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Jerafina said. “The problem now is getting the rest of you out of the castle without anyone getting hurt.” She turned to Parsley. “Or… hurt worse, perhaps.”

“Hey!” A voice called from the ground below the window. Everyone rushed to the window, and saw Borbra and a small woman standing below with several white horses. “Look what we found!”

Jimothan laughed. “Questionette, you really do work wonders!” He called, waving to the other woman. She grinned and waved back. “And I see you’ve found your giant! Two birds with one stone!”

“How are we going to get down?” Kamal called.

“I’ll catch you!” Borbra said. 

Boris jumped down without question. He was too tired of being in that cursed castle to stay another moment. Borbra caught him in a beautiful show of strength. “We meet again,” she joked.

“So we do!” Boris said.

Jimothan jumped down next, and Parsley and Kamal stared at each other for a moment. “Well… I don’t know what comes next,” Parsley said. “I’ve been in revenge so long, I’m not sure where to go from here.”

“You know,” Kamal said, “you’d make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Parsley made a small considerate noise as Kamal jumped down.

And so the small party rode far away from the castle . When they were just reaching the top of the mountains, Kamal and Boris shared another kiss. Just like their first, it left all the original ranked kisses to shame. 

And they knew there would be many more.

_“The End,” the father said._

_His daughter stared at him for a long moment. “Wow…” she finally said. “That’s… that’s a really good story, Dad.”_

_“Thank you, dear,” he said. “”Alas, I am not the author.”_

_“Who wrote it then?” The daughter asked. “Trevor would love this! But I don’t think we can trust him with such an old copy…”_

_“I’m afraid this is the only copy,” her father said. “The book is titled ‘My Love and I’, by Boris B.” He chuckled. “I can only assume the ‘B’ stands for Bora.”_

_“All of that was true?!?” His daughter asked._

_“Well, it’s impossible to be sure,” he said. “But there are records of such a country. And the library I found this in all those years ago was known to hold true books. So… perhaps.”_

_“That’s insane!” His daughter said. “I have to write this all down! Trevor will love it!”_

_“I think that will have to come tomorrow, Nat,” her father said. “It’s rather late, and you’re still sick.”_

_Nat huffed, but nodded. “Alright…” She settled further in her bed, and her father stood. Before he could turn the lights out, she spoke again. “Dad?” He hummed and turned to her. “Do… do you think you could read it to me again tomorrow?”_

_Her father smiled gently. “As you wish,” he replied._

“Boris, darling! Come look who’s coming down the road!”

Boris Bora rose from his writing desk and came to the door of his and his husband’s little cottage. Their daughter, Putunia, who the Dread Pirate Roberts had rescued from a terrible ship, was racing around the garden in excitement. When Boris looked down the road, he could make out a large figure waving. He waved back, both to Borbra and the others with her.

“The neighbors!” Kamal called. “And they’ve brought Putunia’s uncle and grandfather!” Putunia cheered and ran to Kamal’s feet. He picked her up and kissed her cheek. “Are you excited, my dear?”

“Yes!” She shrieked in his ear. 

Boris chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll love to see the progress I’ve made on our story,” he said as he approached his little family. He wrapped them both in his arms. “I suppose we’ll have company for dinner…”

“We’ll manage,” Kamal said. Putunia squirmed in his grip, and he let her go so she could race down the dirt path. Kamal turned so he was fully in Boris’s embrace. “I’m excited to read what you’ve written.”

“It’s not done yet,” Boris replied, “but I think it will be soon.”

“Any way I can help?” Kamal asked.

Boris chuckled. “You could kiss me,” he said. Kamal smiled and caressed the side of his face. 

“As you wish,” he whispered.


End file.
